The Untellable Tale of Bianca
by Gianni Lee
Summary: Bianca. One woman, many questions. This is the tale of Varric, Bianca, their forbidden relationship and the events that changed both their lives. Story is set before and after Dragon Age 2, but before Dragon Age Inquisition. Currently rated T for language, implied torture and sexual situations. Pairings: Varric/Bianca and Fenris/Bethany
1. Chapter 1

**The Untellable Tale of Bianca**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything, Dragon Age is not mine. The characters, game content and materials in the following story are copyrighted to BioWare. Neither I, nor this story, are endorsed by or affiliated with BioWare, or its licensors or subsidiaries. I do not receive any monetary compensation from the publication of this narrative. All Rights Reserved.

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**Chapter 1**

"There was girl, and I made a promise."

~*…..…...~~~**~~~..…..…..*~

She lies in his arms with the bedding tangled about their naked bodies. The moonlight trickles into the dimly lit bedroom as a breeze toys with the curtains. Tonight, as with most nights, they're sharing a room at the Blooming Rose. It's easy for her to rent a room in the brothel where her mother had worked and no one ever questions his frequent visits. He props himself up on his elbow and gazes down onto her lovely face, her waist-long dark crimson hair deliciously tousled from their lust filled tumble. Her fire blue eyes sparkling as he regales her with a tale of one of Bartrand's get-rich-quick schemes. He spares no detail in relating how his elder brother's plan blew up in his face, literally.

"You're making that up," she laughs, playfully smacking his shoulder.

"I shit you not; it burned off half of his beard and both eyebrows. To this day he can't grow hair on his chin. And the look on mom's face when she saw him…" She howls with laughter at his impersonation of a noble dwarven lady who doesn't know if she should be relieved or furious.

Her laughter dies down and her eyes become serious. "Do you ever tell stories about me?"

"Not yet."

"Varric," she, pushes him onto his back.

"What? You have some of the most amazing adventures. I'd have to downplay half of the shit you do; otherwise, no one would believe me." He laughs as a story comes to mind "Hey, do you remember that time you…"

"I'm serious. Don't put me in your tales." To prove her point her hand slips beneath the covers and grips a rather sensitive part of his anatomy. He yelps and grabs her wrist in an effort to pry himself free of her grasp.

"Promise me." She tightens her hold.

"Ok, ok I swear, just let go."

"Varric," her eyes hold the warning carried in her voice.

"I'm already naked and at your mercy. Bianca, please let go!"

She releases him, he is quick to grab her hand and relocate it to his chest. Her fingers are content to draw random shapes in his chest hair. "I swear on my ancestors I will never tell your story to anyone." He releases her hand to cup her face and runs his thumb over the small casteless tattoo she bears high on her right cheekbone, just beneath her eye. She was barely a week old when men from the Shaperate branded her and her mother and she was still in diapers when they relocated to the surface. She never understood the mark on her face, but she also never allowed anyone to touch it, except for him.

"Why the secrecy, Beautiful?"

"Did you really just ask that? I'm a lieutenant in the Carta and you are a member of high ranking clan in the Merchant's Guild, and you want to know why I don't want you talking about me?" She sighs and sits up, an indication she has something on her mind. "The Carta is getting suspicious," he's quick to grab her and pull her back into his arms, pinning her beneath his weight.

"Leave the Carta." He nuzzles her neck, savoring the salty taste of her sweat.

"That's about as likely as you leaving the Merchant's Guild." She giggles when his lips find a particularly sensitive spot. "And what about my little brother, hmm? Leave him to face the Carta's wrath? The Carta would kill him and us." She squirms as he takes advantage of the sensitive area.

"Then let's leave Kirkwall together." His face still buried in the crook of her neck.

"What?" She shoves him back to look into his face.

"You and me, heck we'll even take Gerav," there's no humor in his eyes. "Let's leave and start a new life somewhere else."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"We'd be on the run forever." She pushes him off and sits up. "Not even you can afford to pay off mine and Gerav's contracts."

"Let me worry about that. Oh, before I forget, I have something for you." He picks up his belt pouch from the floor and pulls out a small stone coin which he promptly places in her hand.

"What's this?" She turns to look at him.

"A Boon-Coin, Mother says they're used in Orzammar to give an unconditional favor to whoever carries it. It's very rare to give these out. My mother would freak if she knew I took one."

"And you're giving this to me?"

"Yes. See, it has the Clan Tethras rune on one side and on the other a mark to prove I gave it to you. I know the carving is crap, but hey I'm a merchant not a stone smith."

"But, it's your birthday," she taps the large gold necklace she gave him earlier that evening. "You're not supposed to give out gifts on your birthday." She turns the small coin over and sees "V+B" poorly carved into the back.

"Stick with me Beautiful, and I'll shower you in gifts."

"You say the sweetest things." She pushes him back onto the bed. His fingers trace the large scar on her left shoulder which runs from her collar bone, over her shoulder to just under her shoulder blade. He briefly recalls her tale about her helping an apostate escape and catching a Templar's ax in the process. The Templar died, and she nearly lost the arm, but as luck would have it the apostate turned out to be a gifted healer.

"Varric, there's… something I need to tell you."

His fingertips gently trail down her bare arms. The softness of her curves and intoxicating feel of firm muscle sliding under satin skin enticed his continue exploration of her body. His hands tenderly run the length of her back. "Tell me later, I'm a bit distracted."

"I'm serious."

"So am I," he grabs her long red hair and passionately presses his lips hers. A knock at the door tries to pull Varric's attention away from the beautiful woman in his arms, without success. The knock comes again, this time a little louder.

"Varric, someone is at the door," she whispers, as he rolls her beneath him.

"They'll go away. You're far more interesting." He goes after her neck his lips searching for that elusive ticklish spot.

"Master Tethras. I have an urgent summons for you from the Guild." The demanding knocking continues. Varric grumbles several obscenities and pulls himself from the warmth of his lover's embrace. Few things are more tenacious than a Merchant Guild messenger with an 'urgent summons'. More pounds on the door echo in the room. "Master Tethras?"

"Give me a sodding moment," he barks at the door while hastily slipping into his pants. "Don't go anywhere, Beautiful I'll be right back." He runs his hands through his disheveled blonde locks.

The messenger knocks again, and Varric jerks open his door, but not far enough for anyone to see into the bedroom. "What," he snarls through tightly clenched teeth. Much to Varric's dismay the older man at his door neither flinches nor shies away.

"The guild is having an emergency meeting. They need you."

"You got me out of bed for that?" Sighing heavily and rubs his brow. "Why me? Surely you want Bartrand; he's the head of the clan."

"Both of you have been summoned."

"Fine, fine," he doesn't even try to hide his frustration. "When and where?"

"Now Messere, at the guild hall."

"Now? Blessed ancestors what could be so important that they have to meet at this hour?"

"It's not my place to know, messere; I was instructed to deliver a message and a return with confirmation of your attendance."

The wording was not lost on Varric. "By the Void…Fine. Let me get dressed and I'll head over." He closes the door before the messenger can say anything else. He turns to deliver the news only to find the bed empty. As he looks about the room he finds more than the bed vacant. Bianca is gone, along with her belongings.

"And she's gone again," he sighs and grabs his shirt from the floor, at least now he doesn't have to explain why he has to leave.

..~~*~~..

When Varric arrives he's surprised to see only the nine highest ranking guild members present. All of them stop talking and turn to look at him as he enters the room. Bartrand storms towards his brother and roughly grabs his arm.

"What have you done," he demands through tightly clenched teeth, he brusquely pulls Varric to his seat.

"Me? I haven't done anything to anyone," he protests innocently. Bartrand's unrelenting glare making it clear he does not believe the storyteller. Varric shrugs "Lately," as he takes his seat.

Gorbor Khazzar, the head of the guild, is an older man with a glorious mane of silvery white hair and an intricately braided beard which reaches to his knees. While there are many jokes that Gorbor was around during the third blight, his amber brown eyes shine vibrantly proving he is still in control of his mental facilities. He sits higher than the rest of the merchant council and always exudes an air of intimidation. To his right, sitting slightly lower is his Second, Izo Saelac, a much younger man with ambitious greedy eyes, a dishonest grin and greasy black hair. His gaze is cold and hard as he glares at Varric.

"Varric Tethras," the voice from this old man is deep and booming as it rings out clearly.

_Oh shit. What have I done?_ Adrenaline is coursing through his veins. His heart is pounding in his throat as he rises to his feet.

"What is said in this room remains in this room. Is that understood?"

"Yes." He successfully keeps his hands from fidgeting.

"I understand you're rather resourceful in gathering information."

"Well, I do what I can." His heart is slowing at the realization that he's not in trouble, but a sense of dread is slowly filling him.

"There is a leak in the Merchant's Guild. Someone is feeding vital information to the Carta and it is critical we stop this. I've seen a name in a few of my reports and want you to learn everything you can and report back to us."

"Sounds simple enough, who are you looking for?"

"Bianca Volkean," it is Izo who speaks his voice softer but still carries the weight of his position.

"Bianca…" He's unable to keep the shock from his voice and Gorbor is quick to capitalize on Varric's slip.

"You've heard of her, then. Tell us what you know."

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

"She's a lower level lieutenant who's rising through the ranks in the Carta." His voice betrays none of his tangled feeling. "She specializes in thievery and low risk assassinations, been in the Carta for most of her life if I remember correctly."

"And?"

"And not much more," he lies.

"That's about all the information we have as well. She's somehow infiltrated the Merchant's Guild and we need to know who her contact is before we eliminate her."

..~~*~~..

When the Tethras brothers returned home Bartrand barks orders at his younger sibling, as he had done their entire trip. And Varric ignores him, as he had done the entire trip. The younger blonde haired dwarf locks himself in his room and disregards the demanding bellows of his brother, the drunken orders of his mother and even the more gentle questions of his Aunt Rylinn. He finds it impossible to organize his thoughts. His boots make almost no noise as he walks across the thick rug covering the polished wooden floor. Papers are scattered over his desk, some are story ideas, while others are business correspondences and a few personal letters. His brown eyes glance at the open bedroom window where a small yellow bird lands, chirps a couple of times, then flies away.

It's well past noon and Varric has been pacing non-stop since he returned from the meeting. His mind is racing; refusing to believe that Bianca is the Carta member they are looking for. She wouldn't have betrayed him, would she? They'd been lovers for almost a year now; surely a spy wouldn't stay with a mark that long, right? He had confided in her, but she had also confided in him. Both exchanged secrets about their guilds that could get them killed if the right people were to find out. Would she really betray him like this? No of course not, some of the things that were revealed were things he didn't even know until last night. It can't be Bianca, can it?

"Varric," a male voice pulls Varric from his whirlwind thoughts. He spins to see a dark haired man creeping in through the open window.

"Gerav," he quickly closes the distance and grabs the younger man by the arms. Abrasions and bruises cover Gerav's face and body; his clothes are ripped and bloodstained. It's obvious he was in tough fight. "What happened to you? Where's Bianca? Is she OK?"

"I was hoping you'd know. Merchant Guild thugs grabbed her shortly after she got home last night."

"What? That can't be. I was in a Guild meeting until almost dawn. How could they have known where she lives? Are you sure it was Merchant Guild?"

Gerav cocks his head just looks at Varric. "Ok, stupid question I know. Take me there. I want to see this for myself."

..~~*~~..

The small house is in shambles, there was a definite struggle here. Furniture is overturned and broken, shattered pottery litters the ground. Several arrows and a couple of knives protrude from the walls. One knife in particular Varric recognizes as Bianca's. He suddenly pales at the large amount of drying blood on the floor.

"Bianca and I managed to take a couple of the down before I was knocked out. When I woke up she and the dead bodies were gone." Gerav closes his eyes in an attempt to block out his sister's cry, "I can still hear her scream my name."

The blonde dwarf carefully sifts through some rubble near one of the larger bloodstains. From under a pile of broken pottery he produces a small scrap of crimson soaked paper.

"What's that?"

"It looks like abduction orders, from what I can read…" he squints at the blood soaked parchment desperate to make out who the orders came from. "But I can't make out the signature or the clan rune. This doesn't make any sense."

"What doesn't?" Gerav asks, as he pulls a knife from a nearby wall.

"The Guild doesn't know anything about Bianca. They want me to snoop about and report back with my findings. But this," he holds out the paper. "See this rune here," he points to a small red rune in a gold border at the bottom of the page. "That's the Merchant Guild rune. See the gold around it? That means it's someone important. This was sent from someone in guild with specifics about where she lives. What is going on?"

"Someone in your guild has been providing the Carta with information. Your guild knows there's a leak so now this person needs a scapegoat." Gerav's anger is bubbling just beneath the surface.

"Do you know who the leak is?"

"No. I didn't even know the rumors were true until **your** Merchants took **my **sister."

Varric hears the accusation in Gerav's voice and chooses to ignore it. "Why Bianca? Why target her?"

"They took her because of you." Gerav's anger refuses to be silent any longer. "Because you're a Merchant and she's Carta. You two should never have gotten together." He grabs Varric and slams him against the wall. "If you had just walked away from her that night like I told you to, none of this would have happened. My sister would still be here."

"Back off Gerav," Varric warns.

"Someone knows you're lovers. Who did you tell?"

"If I told anyone they'd have taken me too! Now, back off."

"Liar! Who knows?!"

Varric slams his forehead into Gerav's; both men groan and grab their heads. Gerav stumbles back and Varric leans again the wall.

"Son of a bitch!" The younger dwarf clutches his head and curses again. Varric is also swearing as he too grasps his head.

"By the Stone. How does she do that?"

"Damned if I know," Gerav confesses his temper calmer.

"I'll bet they try to pin this on you too. I've seen this before; it happens a lot in the Carta. Shit, Varric, she's all the family I have left."

"Stay calm. You check around Darktown and the docks. I'll ask check out Lowtown and Hightown. I'll also get my contacts out too."

"Where should we meet?"

"The Hanged Man, the Merchant Guild has no power there. We'll meet at dusk."


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything, Dragon Age is not mine. The characters, game content and materials in the following story are copyrighted to BioWare. Neither I, nor this story, are endorsed by or affiliated with BioWare, or its licensors or subsidiaries. I do not receive any monetary compensation from the publication of this narrative. All Rights Reserved.

**A/N: **I began writing this story before Dragon Age Inquisition was released. In DA:I you learn more about Bianca therefore I consider this story to be in an Alternate Thedas.

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**Chapter 2**

"Where's Bianca?"

~*…..…...~~~**~~~..…..…..*~

The sun set long ago and the moon is beginning to rise. Varric sits anxiously at a small table in the back corner of the Hanged Man. He hails the waitress, Nora, and orders second ale and a bowl of stew.

"Really? You're going to eat the food? Here? I thought you've been here enough to know otherwise," her hands are on her slender hips. She cocks her head to one side and eyes him carefully.

"Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

"Your funeral," she shakes her head at some private joke as she heads towards the bar to fill his order. Varric watches as the bartender does a double take. She points over at Varric and the bartender shakes his head before disappearing into the kitchen. Moments later he emerges with a large mug and small bowl which he hands to Nora and watches as she makes her way towards the back table. She sets the bowl down and then the mug. She promptly grabs a spoon from another table, cleans it with her dirty apron and plops it into the bowl unceremoniously. She glances at the bowl raises an amused eyebrow and walks away.

His face twists in disgust as he eyes the spoon in his stew. The rumbling of his stomach convinces him to look past the lack of sanitation. Chunks of meat sit in a thick broth along with carrots, potatoes and onions and some random ingredient he cannot identify. Picking up the spoon, he pokes at one of the half inch long, black things. Its firm texture does not betray it origins, nor does the way it cracks under pressure. As he continues to prod the stew, and briefly wonders where the Hanged Man got the beef from; the Merchant Guild holds all of the beef contracts in Kirkwall. He then begins to go through the other common meats used for stew until his stomach grumbles again. He jabs a chunk of meat. It looks ok, but smells a little gamey. With a sigh he scoops up some of the soup and finds a rat tail hanging off the utensil. Not a rat, just the tail. Instantly he knows what the mystery meat is. Did something just move in the stew?

"Nora, more ale!" He immediately puts the spoon down and puts some distance between himself and the rat stew. He quickly finishes his first beverage and uses the tankard to push the bowl even further away. She sets down another tankard and chuckles as she picks up the offensive bowl and empty mug.

He wraps his stocky hands about the fresh mug and stares at the door as he tries not to dwell on Gerav's tardiness, or his beloved Bianca. His closes his brown eyes as images of his red-haired rogue flash in his mind in an effort to concentrate on his rescue plans. He tries to push the memory her smile and the mischievous twinkle of her intense fire blue eyes out of his mind. He makes an effort to not focus on the memory of her soft skin and loving touch. He can almost feel the silkiness of her hair as the sound of her laughter tickles his ears.

He snaps his eyes open and wills Gerav to come through the door; dread begins to fill his empty belly. He knows the methods the Merchant's Guild uses to extract information from the unwilling and it breaks his heart to know Bianca is suffering. His stomach moves in nauseating waves at the thought of her stubbornness and the Guild's brutal tactics.

The door opens and for a hopeful second Varric is pulled from his troubled thoughts. The grey haired elven woman that walks in causes him to swear quietly and take a long drink of the watered down ale. He forces his mind from Bianca to the information he managed to gather today. He begins forming a report in his head: three men were seen leaving her home, one carrying her over his shoulder and the other two were dragging their dead.

Her crossbow was missing from her home. He assumed that the thugs took it with them. Several ideas for why it was taken come to mind, each worse than the previous theory. He begins praying that Gerav would walk in soon and save him from his troubled thoughts. Again the door opens and again Varric finds himself disappointed by the face that enters. His stubby fingers begin to drum nervously on the side of the mug.

_Where is Gerav?_

The door opens again and this time a young human boy, barely 10 years old enters followed by a disheveled and exhausted Gerav. He waves the pair over while ordering a drink for Gerav. The dwarf drags the child behind him and collapses into a chair with a tired sigh. Nora delivers ale with such speed that Varric instantly decides that she is now his favorite waitress.

"Ah, thanks mate!" the child joyfully exclaims, reaching for the mug. Gerav growls, slaps the tiny hands away and snatches up the beverage. "Your payment comes later."

The urchin plops down in a chair muttering obscenities under his breath. Varric takes a moment to size up the boy. His hair is dirty, unkempt and reaches his shoulders. He speaks with the uneducated tongue of the slums, but intelligence shines in his eyes. His forest green eyes are constantly scanning the room and Varric can see the boy's mind taking notes. With a little guidance, this boy could become a cunning scam artist, a clever spy, or a dangerous criminal. Several layers of grime and dirt cover the child and his rags which hang on his extremely slender frame.

"You want some stew?" Varric offers.

The child just laughs "not even for a sovereign. There's more than rat in that shite."

"Smart boy," Gerav mutters into his drink.

"Momma drowned the dumb kids," the urchin retorts. Despite himself, Varric chuckles and then the thought occurs to him that he's not entirely sure if the boy is joking or not.

"What's your name?" Varric asks, as he slides his tankard to the child and orders ale for himself.

"Nicodemus, but me mates call me Nico for short. What about my payment?"

"Three silvers," Gerav elbows Varric, implying that the merchant should pay the fee. Varric pulls out the three silvers and places them on the table, far from Nico's reach.

"What do you know about Bianca?"

"Red-haired dwarf with amazing tits," the boy snarls, holding his hands out to exaggerate her bust size while making a lewd face.

"That's my sister." His voice is a low and dangerous growl.

"Don't make her baby feeders any less impressive." He eyes Gerav and sneers, almost daring the dwarf into action. Varric can see that the boy is deliberately pushing Gerav's buttons, trying to get a reaction out of him, but he cannot figure out why.

"What do you know about her disappearance?" he asks quickly before the Carta dwarf knocks the boy's teeth out. He pushes one silver coins towards Nico, but keeps his finger on it.

"I's supposed to meet her that night for a job. I's on my way to her house, when I seen 'em." Green eyes never leave the coin. "Four Merchant goons they's just standing outside her door. So I hid and listened. I heard 'em talking, real quiet like and all."

Varric removes his finger and the child snatches up the silver coin with lightning speed. A second silver gets pushed towards Nico. "What did they say?"

"For a bit they just talked 'bout random stuff, like their favorite whore at the Blooming Rose, who has the best ale, stuff like that. After a while another one shows up with a piece of parchment. He tells 'em other fellers that they have the orders and that they's supposed to take her alive. This new fella makes it real clear that they ain't getting paid to kill nobody, so they shouldn't waste their time with that. But he did tell 'em that if she had a blonde 'gentleman caller' with her, to kill 'em both. They'd get paid extra for that, but only if he was with her otherwise they ain't to hunt him down."

"Did they use any names or say anything about who hired them?" Varric asks, still pinning down the second coin.

"No."

"Can you describe any of the men you saw?"

"They's all dwarfs, but I only got a good look at two of 'em. One was big and ugly. He got these face tattoos," with his finger the boy draws the shapes on his face to describe them. "He got no hair on his head, but a big bushy mustache and long braided hair with metal beads at the bottom. He also got this nasty scar on the left side of his face, look like he tried to catch an axe with his face or somethn'."

"What color is his hair?" Varric still keeping the coin pinned.

"Brown."

"And the other guy?" Gerav flags down Nora for more ale.

"He's a skinnier chap, nicer armor then them other blokes. He got short, blond hair, with a big mustache that's braided and comes down to his chest, no beard but lots of stubble. He got this wide flat nose, like someone beat his face with a shovel."

The second coin disappears as quickly as the first. Varric pushes the third coin out. "What happened next?"

"I could hear the fight, and peering in through the shutters I could see some of the fight. She done pretty good, until she got distracted. Then they overpowered her and knocked her out. Big-n-Ugly carried her out, while Slim led the way."

The boy tries to take the coin, but Varric does not release it. "Did you follow them?"

"For a bit, yeah. They went down the street like they's headin' to the docks, but they turned and disappeared into a warehouse." Again he tries to take the coin, and again he's blocked by Varric.

"Which warehouse?"

"The small one close to the end, just before the steps, but when I followed them in they's nowhere. Like they jus' disappeared, I mean it's a small warehouse and there ain't that many hidin' places."

Varric releases the coin and pulls a sovereign from his pouch. He holds it up so the urchin can see, but is careful to keep it out of reach. "This is yours, if you take us to that warehouse." He moves the coin slightly so that the flickering light of the fire reflects off the gold. Nico's eyes go wide as he stares at the gold coin, his mind already planning on how to spend the money. The glint of greed gives Varric his answer before the boy ever speaks.

..~~*~~..

"So this is the place," Nico says, leading the dwarves up the door. The dark haired dwarf places an ear to the door. Varric's brown eyes glance around the desolated streets; his gut is telling him this is all going too smoothly.

"It's quiet." Gerav takes a moment to survey the nearby roof tops.

"Who's using the warehouse now?" The blond man cautiously keeps his hand near the coin-purse that the boy is eyeing expectantly.

"Dunno. Heard rumors 'bout some Tevinter feller, but I don' know for sure."

Carefully, the Carta member opens the door and peers inside, then quietly reports that he doesn't see anyone before pulling his daggers and heading in. Varric also unsheathes his knives, then gestures for the boy to follow Gerav before he enters the building.

The trio remains in the deep shadows as the door shuts and their eyes adjust the dimness of the warehouse. Moonlight filters in between weathered slats and does little to illuminate the area. Gerav signals for them to wait while he checks the place out. The Merchant directs the boy to the darkest corner then takes a position in the opposite corner, if this is an ambush, it will be easier for Varric to draw them away from the child, buying Nico time to escape.

The minutes pass slowly, but finally Gerav returns, weapons sheathed. "It's clear."

"Can I have my money now?"

"Not yet; how much time passed between when they entered and you followed?" Varric pulls the promised payment from his pouch.

"Not long, just long enough for me to listen to through the door."

He holds the sovereign up for Nico to see. "Two more things; one, don't ever let me hear about you speaking of Bianca in such a rude manner again. I might get offended next time. And when I get offended people disappear. Understand?"

"Perfectly," there's a hint of fear in the child's voice. "And the second thing?"

He tosses him the coin. "If you happen to come across any interesting pieces of news or gossip, let me know. If I think it's valuable, I'll pay."

"Honest?"

"Cross my heart. Now get out of here before we get ambushed, mutilated and murdered in horrible, violent ways."

Nico opens his mouth to say something, but then his eyes go wide as Varric's words sink in. Clutching the coin tightly, the boy bolts out the door and runs down the street, kicking up a small dust trail behind him.

"Thanks for putting a little fear into that bastard. I swear if that son of a bitch said one more thing about Bianca's…um…endowments, I was going to break his nose."

"He was just doing it to provoke a reaction. Don't know why though." Brown eyes survey the small area.

"So someone in your Guild does know about you and Bianca," he stops looking about and faces his friend. "But why pay extra to kill you both if you were with her, why not just take out a contract? That part makes no sense."

"Yes it does. Together and dead, we'd be the perfect scapegoat. No one could argue that we didn't know each other and we wouldn't be able to argue our innocence."

"If they know you're lovers, why not ambush you two at the Blooming Rose?"

"Plausible deniability. When we meet at the Rose she uses the name Mirabelle Bellini. My clan would easily argue that I never knew she was Carta."

"Then why take her alive. I mean I'm grateful for that and all. But wouldn't she be just as useful dead?"

"No. The Guild would view her death as someone covering their tracks; that they were getting close and would increase the efforts to catch the mole. Alive they hope to…persuade her to reveal her partner's identity."

"Namely you," it's more a statement than a question.

"Namely me."

"Maker, watch over my sister," Gerav prays under his breath.

"Ancestors protect her," Varric adds. All of Varric's life was on the surface, but his family is from Orzammar, and as a result his beliefs lean more towards the Stone and Ancestors; not that stops the occasional Adrastian phrase from passing his lips like Gerav. "Ok," he pulls their minds from troubled thoughts and onto the current problem. "If it was only a few seconds between them entering and Nico following, they couldn't have made it very far into the building. There no place to hide in here, no access to a ship from here, and the place is damn near empty."

"There must be a hidden passage somewhere here."

"Right, I'm thinking floor, because this wall," Varric indicates the wall behind him. "Is shared with the neighboring warehouse, and beyond that wall is just an alley."

"And these buildings don't exactly have thick walls," Gerav looks about the small area from some clue.

"It will have to be close by, for them to disappear in such a short amount of time."

Something catches Gerav's eyes and he crouches down to clear away some dirt. "Look here," he points to the recently discovered scratch marks. Varric kneels down and follows the scratches to one of the shelves.

"So it's under these shelves, but where is the switch," Varric wonders aloud, he runs his hands along the wall, searching for a hidden release.

"Merchant, you're making things more difficult than they need to be," Gerav grabs the shelves and pulls on them. The entire shelving unit swings effortlessly open to reveal a stairwell carved into the floor.

"Well, that was easier than expected."

"Then you go first," Gerav chuckles. Varric grumbles, draws his weapons and heads down into the dark passageway.

The ground beneath the city is riddled with passageways, sewers and hidden tunnels. Runes line the walls of the long corridor, and bathe the area in a faint light. Scholars believe that when Kirkwall was under the Imperium's rule the Magisters had hundreds of mages living beneath the city conducting dark research and forbidden magic. No one questioned why the walls or rooms in certain subterranean areas emitted their own light; it's just assumed that this was old magic from the Imperium's time in the city.

The tunnel is wide enough for both men to walk comfortably side-by-side. The hallway is devoid of sound; even their footsteps seem silent as they slowly progress into the unknown, pausing only when they reach a fork in the tunnel. Gerav carefully studies the ground and disturbed dust.

"Well?"

"Hard to tell. Footprints lead down both tunnels, but through this tunnel," he point to the opening on his left. "Something was dragged. It doesn't look like they split up, but the drag marks are making it difficult to be certain."

"Then let's follow the drag marks."

Gerav nods and leads the way through the corridor which splits into three possible paths. Again the Carta member scans the area in search of tracks or clues for which path to follow. After several moments Gerav swears, declaring the trail lost.

Varric curses loudly, and sheaths his knives. "We could spend months search these tunnels and never find them. We need to get back to the surface and study the paper we found at your place."

"Fine. You do that and I'll follow up on a couple of leads that weren't as promising as this and I'll meet you back at the Hanged Man as soon as I can."


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything, Dragon Age is not mine. The characters, game content and materials in the following story are copyrighted to BioWare. Neither I, nor this story, are endorsed by or affiliated with BioWare, or its licensors or subsidiaries. I do not receive any monetary compensation from the publication of this narrative. All Rights Reserved.

*.._.._._..._._.._..~~~**~~~.._.._._..._._.._..*

**Chapter 3**

"Once more I am falsely accused of whatever it is that I am accused of. Falsely."

~*…..…...~~~**~~~..…..…..*~

Varric sits at a small table in the back corner of the Hanged Man. Without thinking he sips on the warm ale, his attention is solely on the small stack of papers before him. He'd been receiving reports all day from his various contacts. On a separate sheet of parchment he jots down notes that are important. He turns his gaze back to the mysterious orders he recovered from Bianca's home. He's so focused on the paper that he doesn't notice the tavern's door open, or that Bartand has walked in.

The blonde dwarf stands near the door with his hands on his hips and surveys the bar with a disapproving gaze until he finds his brother. With an air of superiority, Bartrand makes his way towards Varric's table.

"By the Ancestors, Varric! Have you no sense of position?"

Bartrand's sudden outburst startles Varric, causing him to jump, and draw an unwanted line on his notes. The younger dwarf sighs and sets his quill down.

"What do you want Bartrand? I'm working."

"Working? Why are you working here?" He spreads his arms indicating the substandard, crowded, foul smelling establishment. Varric makes a point to look around.

Nora is fending off some unwanted attention with her colorful use of language. A small group of drunken guards are singing a popular drinking song, loudly and off key. A large party of men laughs noisily and raises their glasses in a toast to one of their newly engaged brethren. And a brawl just broke out between three men playing cards.

"It's quiet," Varric shrugs slightly.

"By the Stone little brother," he doesn't hide his disappointment. "The Guild gives you an important assignment and you waste your time!"

"I'm not wasting time," Varric calmly protests.

"By drinking, and telling stories in a questionable bar," Bartrand continues as if Varric had not spoken.

"Bartrand," Varric rubs his brow. "I know you don't understand the finer points of dealing with those beneath you, but believe me when I say that none of my contacts will come to Hightown." His mocking tone was not lost on Bartrand.

"Contacts," he scoffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "You've never even been to this dung heap until about two days ago. It would be more believable that your contacts are all at the Blooming Rose, given the amount of time you spend there."

"They keep inviting me back," he protests with a smug grin. Varric's known from the beginning that his older brother was having him followed. In fact, Bartrand's flunkies liked Varric better and could easily be bribed or persuaded to alter their reports.

"The whores? The whores invite you back?"

"What can I say; the ladies can't resist the chest hair. Why else would I have such a small tab?"

The dwarf's face flushes red with anger. "The Council will want results and all you have are your pretty stories," to prove his point Bartrand produces one of Varric's journals and drops it onto the table.

"You went through my room?!"

"As the eldest it's my duty to maintain House Tethras' reputation and increase our standing. When the Council summons us, and you have nothing to show, I'm the one held responsible for your failure."

"You're faith in me is overwhelming," his tone is flat and he tries to return to his reports.

"Do you have anything to justify my faith?"

"Bianca was kidnapped two days ago from her home by someone in the Merchant's Guild. Whoever did it is well connected, maybe even in the Council." Varric holds out the bloodied parchment with the smudged clan rune.

"All this proves is that her partner can forge clan runes," unimpressed he drops the paper onto the floor.

"Forgery? You think-" Varric is interrupted by the door swinging open and Nico running in. The boy skillfully dodges the drunken brawl and leaps around a tipped over chair. He runs up to Varric's table and slams his tiny hands onto the wooden surface.

"Varric," the urchin gasps out of breath from running.

"By the Stone, what is that stench," Bartrand's comment is obviously directed at the dirty child.

"The stew," sarcasm drips from Varric's words. Bartrand suddenly grabs the storyteller by his shirt and hauls him out of his chair and into a wall. It happens so quickly that the table is knocked over, scattering his papers and ale

"Listen carefully little brother, because I'm only going to say this once," his teeth are tightly clenched and his face is red with rage. "As eldest I will have your respect, and I will not have you bring shame to our House. Do we understand each other?"

"Leave 'im alone!" Nico launches himself at Bartrand, a dagger in his tiny hands. Bartrand releases Varric and quickly steps back in order to avoid the blade. The child deftly lands between the two dwarves, and judging by his posture and how he's holding the weapon, the boy knows how to fight. Bartrand makes a frustrated sound and throws his hands in the air, his signal that he's not pressing the issue.

"Be home by nightfall," he points at Varric. "The Council sent word of a meeting tonight and we are waiting to find out when. Don't make me hunt you down," he turns and leaves, stepping on the scattered papers.

Only when the door closed behind Bartrand did Nico let his guard down.

"You ok, mate?"

"That could've gone better," He crouches to gather his papers and Nico wastes no time to help.

"Varric," it's Nora calling his name as she kneels down with a semi-clean rag to blot ale off of his papers. "The Hanged Man use to have a co-owner named Torc. Nice dwarven fella who did all the paperwork upstairs. Corff says you can rent the space."

"Where's this Torc feller," Nico asks.

"He married a wealthy merchant woman from Felderan and moved to Denerim with her."

"Why offer the space to me?"

"Corff and I like you. You're here most days, you pay your tab, you bring people in with your stories, and you don't grab my arse or try to lick me. Want me to go on?"

"No," he chuckles. "I get the idea. Let me take a look at the space in a couple of days and I'll think about it."

"I think it still has all of Torc's furniture. I'll make sure the space is clean when you come back." She hands the wet sheets of parchment to Varric before standing up. "Right, let me just give Corff your answer then."

Once the papers were gathered, the urchin and dwarf righted the table and put the chairs back in place. Varric surveys the damage: the ink on the wet pages is too smeared to read as were a couple of pages Bartrand stepped on. He thanks his Ancestors that the abduction order was still intact. All of the legible papers he stuffs into his journal.

"So, you have news for me?"

"Yes, did you know that someone in the Dwarven Merchant Guild is selling information to the Carta?"

"That is old news, unless you know who's doing the selling."

"Don' know that, but I know the bloke doin' the buyin'."

"Who?"

"Big dwarf feller, by the name of Cort."

"What else do you know," Varric does his best to hide his excitement.

"He's sweet on this girl in Hightown and sometimes they meet real secret like."

"Do you know who this girl is?"

"No, but he's meeting her tonight. I done followed him and heard him talking to one of his mates."

Varric pulls out a silver and hands it to the child. "If you find out her name I've got a sovereign for you."

"You got it. So, who was that horse's arse?"

"My brother."

"How is _that_ related to you?"

Varric chuckles as he recalled Bianca asking the exact same question. His face quickly drops, if the Council is calling a meeting tonight it means her kidnappers either got a confession out of her, or they realize she's not going to break and turned her over to the Guild. Either option is not good. A plan begins to take shape. He pulls out a few silvers and hands them to the child.

"Nico, I need you to do something for me."

..~~*~~..

Varric sits in his room, behind a locked door, frantically writing a letter. He's four pages in and desperately trying to get all of the details down on parchment. He signs the letter, pulls out another page and begins a second letter, but this message takes no more than a page and a half. He signs this second note, folds it and seal with few drops of blue wax. He puts everything into a large envelope and attaches it to a small coin pouch which he leaves in the center of his desk. He laces his fingers together and stares at the little package. After a moment he drops his head. "Ancestors, please hear me. Let this work," he begs. He can hear footsteps coming up the stairs. "I'll give you anything….anything you want. Just please, spare her."

The insistent pounding at his door betrayed the visitor as Bartrand.

"What," Varric makes it clear what he thinks of older brother interrupting him.

"We need to leave, the Council has summoned us."

"Fine, I'll be down in a moment."

"Two minutes, little brother. Do not be late."

Varric pulls a small vial from his pouch and carefully coats one of his blades with the thick yellowish concoction he had Nico purchase for him earlier. He hides the vial in the back of his bottom desk drawer before he heads downstairs. His stomach is in a tight ball as they silently make their way to the Council meeting. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his mouth goes dry, and his palms begin to sweat.

_Ancestors, please let this work._

This is the last Merchant Guild meeting Varric will ever attend.

..~~*~~..

Varric and Bartrand walk into the Guild meeting and take their appointed seats. A Varric remains as detached as possible as the meeting is called to order. He watches helplessly as two men haul in the 'witness.'

The woman they drag in is limp and her face is covered by a thick cloth, obstructing her vision, and her hands are bound behind her. Blood and bruises cover her dwarven frame. The guards unceremoniously dump her on the ground. When she rolls onto her side Varric can see where the lash has ripped both fabric and flesh. Her moans and groans of pain pull at his heart as she struggles to get to her knees. Defiant as ever, she rises to her feet, only to have one of the guards punch her in the gut, driving her back to her knees. She coughs, desperate to catch her breath, but remains on her knees.

Izo regales the small group with the witnesses crimes before one of the two men rips off the hood back to reveal a battered and bruised Bianca. Varric gasps at the sight of her. Her once waist long hair had been crudely hacked away. Uneven edges barely reach her shoulders. Her left eye is swollen shut and there is a dark bruise on her right cheek. The bruising and scabs around her neck and wrists reveal how the 'evidence' was collected. Varric clutches his fists as he watches his beloved rogue is roughly and painfully hauled to her feet.

"Varric Tethras," Gorbor's voice echoes off the wall. "Step forward."

He takes a deep breath before stepping forward.

"Do you know this woman," Gorbor's gaze is unrelenting.

"I do. She's a working girl from the Blooming Rose, Mirabelle Bellini."

"According to their records you 'visited' her as often as three times a week," Izo's voice feels like slime in Varric's ears and the man's dark eyes bounce between Varric and Bianca.

"The Blooming Rose is run by the Coterie, which is no opposition to the Guild and they have no connection with the Carta. According to Guild bylaws I can visit the establishment everyday if I so choose."

"But she is the only one you patronize."

"She's my favorite," Varric shrugs and refuses to be intimidated.

"Did you approach her or did she approach you," the sleazy little man is now focused solely on the blonde man before him.

"She approached me. She said she heard some rumors about me and wanted to see if they were true," Varric sticks to the cover story they came up with months ago.

"I told you! The younger Tethras has a reputation for creativity and stamina." Bianca's split lip curls into a suggestive grin. Her interruption is rewarded with a back handed slap that knocks her to the ground. She cries out in pain as the guards again yank her to her feet, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

"Did you find it odd that she would solicit you?" Izo eyes narrow as he glares at the storyteller.

"Am I subject to an Inquest," Varric's tone is defensive and irritated. "Do I need representation?"

"No," Gorbor's deep voice puts an end to Izo's line of questions. "What have you learned about Bianca Volkean?"

Varric takes a breath and relays what his contacts know about her, leaving out a few details in the process. He never mentions her brother, Gerav. Nor does he detail any targets or jobs that would anger the Council. He also does not volunteer her description.

"And what does she look like," Izo leans forward, eager for Varric's answer.

"Dwarven woman with red hair and face tattoo." It's only a partial description, but it's vague enough that it could be several women in Kirkwall.

"Sounds like your whore," Izo points to Bianca.

"It also sounds like your youngest daughter. All of my contacts say she has a small facial tattoo, but none of them could really describe it."

"Why did you withhold this information," Gorbor strokes his long silvery white beard.

"The information was too vague and incomplete. I was hoping to get a more detailed description before submitting my report to the Council."

"She has confessed that she is Bianca Volkean," Izo announces.

"The Blooming Rose doesn't hire Carta, and I don't know anyone who does a background check on the prostitutes they use. Again I ask, am I subject to an Inquest?"

"No, you are not. Many of the facts that were leaked were not known to you or your House until a few nights ago." Gorbor announces.

"This one," Izo waves in Varric's general direction, "is good at ferreting out secrets."

"Even the witness confirms that information did not come for the Tethras sons."

"But she refuses to give us a name."

"I'm not the Carta you're looking for. I only know the rumors and the rumors don't name names. They only say the seller is a woman."

"Then you are of no use to us," Gorbor waves his hand in dismissal.

"Time to prove your loyalty, Tethras," Varric knew this was coming and begins to reach for his coated blade. The substance is not a poison, but it will send its victim into a death-like state. His plan is to get in close, and stab her. It doesn't have to be deep, and he's skilled enough to miss everything vital. He will only have a few seconds to reassure her that he has a plan.

"We hear that among the Carta, it is the ultimate sign of disrespect to be killed with one's own weapon." Izo waves his hand and one of the guards produces Bianca's crossbow as if by magic. Varric is stunned, and it's obvious by the expression on his face. He looks at the weapon, then at Bianca and finally back to the Council.

"I'm more a knife man," Varric tries to hand the weapon back.

"Tonight you're an archer," Gorbor orders. Again Varric looks at the crossbow. The red cedar stock is masterfully carved and the brass fittings gleam in the light. His heart is pounding in his throat; he's had only a few lessons with the weapon and doubts he has the skill to shoot her without killing her. The guards are holding her steady, but she shakes them off.

"I'll face my death on my feet," she straightens her back and meets Varric's concerned gaze. Her facial expression is stern and brave, but her eyes are soft with a look of understanding.

"What's the matter little Tethras, can't kill a woman," she taunts. He brings the weapon up and aims it at his lover. His blood roars in his ears and he can't hear her other taunts. His heart is pounding in his chest so fiercely he's surprised that is doesn't break his ribs. His hands tremble slightly. He's aware of noise in the room, Bianca's voice and the encouraging droning of the Council and his brother.

_Ancestors please._ He takes one last breath, holds it and pulls the trigger. Time seems to slow. The snap of the serving slipping the latch is deafening. He can almost feel the wooden bolt sliding against the wooden flight groove. It smoothly sails through the air, crosses the distance and buries itself in Bianca's chest. He's still holding his breath as he watches her collapse. He stares at her body, hoping to see some sign that she's alive. He's willing her to give him even the tiniest of hints that he didn't kill her. It isn't until his lungs burn that he takes a breath and he becomes aware of the cheering in the room. He watches as the guards drag her body from the room, and gradually becomes aware of people leaving.

"You taught that whore a lesson," Bartrand laughs and slaps his brother on the back.

"Bartrand, you're my brother so I'm only going to say this just once and as mildly as I can." Varric finally pulls his eyes from the black corridor the guards disappeared into to glare at his sibling. Varric's brown eyes are filled with a hateful rage that sends a shiver down the spine. "Never speak to me about this night again," his teeth are clenched and without realizing it he's aiming the crossbow at Bartrand's chest.


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything, Dragon Age is not mine. The characters, game content and materials in the following story are copyrighted to BioWare. Neither I, nor this story, are endorsed by or affiliated with BioWare, or its licensors or subsidiaries. I do not receive any monetary compensation from the publication of this narrative. All Rights Reserved.

*.._.._._..._._.._..~~~**~~~.._.._._..._._.._..*

**Chapter 4**

"Bianca isn't a thing. She's your soul."

~*…..…...~~~**~~~..…..…..*~

It's nearly dawn by the time the Merchant Guild guards reach the Bone Pit. They drop Bianca's body and sit on an outcrop of rocks to catch their breaths.

"You wanna just call it good here?"

"We're supposed to dump her in the Bone Pit," the dark haired man wiped the sweat from his brow. He wasn't looking forward to the trip uphill.

"Technically, we're at the Bone Pit. They won't know we dumped her here."

"I guess you're right. Let's hit the tavern, first round is on me."

As the guards retreat, Gerav and Nico emerge from their hiding places. The dwarf kneels down to examine his sister and cut her bonds. The human watches the guards to be certain they don't turn around.

"Andraste's tits, they done busted her up real good. I've seen people die from less." Nico hovers over the dwarf's shoulder. Gerav growls and briefly glares at the child until he realizes the boy is correct.

"Come on let's get her to a healer."

"What about Varric?"

"We've got no news for him. Let's see what the healer says first."

..~~*~~..

It's early morning and Varric has finally stopped pacing. He sits in his desk chair and stares at the window.

"Master Tethras," a servant calls through the door. "Breakfast is served."

"I'm not hungry." A true statement as he's sick with worry.

"As you wish."

He stares at the crossbow, and can only see Bianca's face. The Council let him keep the weapon as a trophy. The only thing keeping him for destroying it is the knowledge that Bianca would want it back, if she recovers.

_No, not if…__**When**__ she recovers._

He ignores the gentle tapping at his chamber door.

"Varric," the soft knocking returns, "please open the door."

He sits for a couple of seconds before opening the door and letting his aunt into his room. She closes the door behind her and looks at her nephew.

"What happened at the meeting?"

"Hasn't Bartrand given you all the gory details?" He can't keep the bitterness from his voice.

"Tell me," her kind tone and loving eyes pull at him. She's been more a mother him than the woman who birthed him and she is the only one he could never lie to.

"They made me kill her." His voice is flat and emotionless, but the words stung. A painful lump formed in his throat and his eyes began to water. He turned towards his open window and closes the shutters.

"Your…friend, from the brothel?" She doesn't like such establishments, nor does she approve her of nephew's visitations to it. She's trying to ease his pain, so she holds back her lecture and simply listens.

"She wasn't the spy they were looking for and they…" he couldn't finish the statement, because it was too painful to consider the option that he might have murdered his beloved Bianca.

"Is this the first time you've had to kill for the Guild?"

The question catches him off guard and he turns to looks at her, unable to answer.

"I thought so," she says, misreading his body language. She tells him about the first time his father had to kill for the Guild. She tells him about the guilt he carried, and how he buried that guilt with work. She feels it was his guilt that had lead him to fix the Provings matches, which resulted in their exile.

"You haven't slept, have you," she places a loving hand on his cheek.

"No," he responds. "Not since the Council asked me to look into Bianca."

"I'll tell the servants you aren't to be disturbed and have them leave food outside your door. I'll even keep Lady Ilsa busy so you can have some peace."

"Thanks Aunt Rylinn."

"Please try to get some rest my dear." She hugs him and places a tender kiss on his cheek. "If you need to talk, I'm here." She smiles sweetly and closes his door. Varric immediately opens his window again, returns to his vigil.

..~~*~~..

"I've done all that I can for today," the healer says as she slips a stray grey hair behind her pointed ear. She collapses into a nearby chair, exhausted from the healing.

"Will she live," Gerav asks.

"Yes, but it will takes weeks for her to fully recover. The arrow to her chest came very close to her heart, it's difficult to mend such damage," she follows the dwarf's gaze to the unconscious woman. "She's sleeping now. She's welcome to stay here and I can tend to her for a price." Gerav reaches into the coin pouch Varric left for him and pulls out three sovereigns. The woman takes the money in her small, ancient hands with a slight nod.

"The payment is sufficient. Shall I inform the child?"

Gerav looks at her for a moment, and then remembers that Nico is in the other room. The chamber the healing took place in is small and the elven woman tried to kick both of them out, but Gerav wouldn't leave his sister.

"No. I'll be out in a moment to tell him."

The woman nods and quietly slips away, leaving brother and sister alone. Gerav read Varric's multi page letter again and then looks down at Bianca; and begins planning.

"Since Mom died, you're all the family I have left. Sister, you have always looked out for me. You were always there to protect me even from myself and my own piss poor decisions," he kisses her forehead. "Now it's my turn to look after you."

He takes a breath and goes into the next room, closing the door behind him.

"Well," the boy is eager for some news. Gerav wraps an arm about the child's shoulders and leads him outside, away from earshot.

"It's not good. Bianca's injuries are severe and the healer is doing all she can, but it will take more time. Go tell Varric what I just told you, I'll find him in a couple of days with more news. If anyone else asks about Bianca you tell them she died and I'm," he has to pause as the realization of how close he came to losing his sibling sinks in. "I'm cremating her."

"Right," the urchin nods and runs towards town. Gerav sighs and returns to the hut to talk to the healer.

..~~*~~..

It took Nico most of the morning to return to Kirkwall and then the rest of the afternoon to find Varric's estate. The sun was beginning to set when the child finally managed to climb the wall and peek into the open window he hopes is the right one. He can see the blonde dwarf sitting at a desk, staring at a crossbow.

"Varric," the boy whispers just before he climbs into the large room.

"Nico," the dwarf is careful to his voice down, but is surprised that it's not Gerav. "How's Bianca?" He rushes to the urchin and helps him into the room.

"Is this where you live? It's huge! This room is bigger than my whole house."

"Tell me about Bianca. How is she?"

"Ain't good mate. She's hurt real bad; the healer ain't done fixin' her. Gerav says he'll find you in a few days with more news."

"But she's alive?"

"Barely."

"Ancestors be praised," his plan was working. The relief sends blood rushing to his head and makes him a little dizzy. He falls back into a chair.

"You're sweet on her, aintcha?"

"Nico, you're a smart kid, so I won't lie to you, but I can't answer that question."

"Fair enough. Um, one more question."

"Yes?"

"You gonna eat that," the child points to plate of food the servants brought up for lunch.

..~~*~~..

It's been three days and Gerav hasn't left Bianca's side. The healer announced last night that she had finally exhausted all of the magical healing she can do. Currently she's tending to Bianca's wounds and changing her bandages.

"Was she born in Orzammar?" Gerav looks at the elf and asks her to repeat her question.

"Was she born in Orzammar? I ask because she's more resistant to magic than most surface dwarfs."

"Why does that matter?"

"There's a theory among mages that the reason dwarfs are resistant to magic is because of their exposure to lyrium. Some argue that surface dwarfs are more vulnerable to magic than their underground kin, because there is more lyrium exposure in Orzammar. I had a lot of difficulty healing her and thought she might have been from Orzammar."

For a moment Gerav thinks about not answering, after all the casteless brand should have been answer enough. But then he remembers that elf probably has no knowledge of dwarven tattoos and she has been working herself to the point of dropping to heal his sister. "Yes, she was, but came to the surface when she was still a babe."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Were you born in Orzammar as well?"

"No, I was born four years after she and Mom settled in Kirkwall."

"Thank you for sating my curiosity. I'll be back in a couple of hours with food."

Gerav rests his head in his hands; all he can do now is to wait for her to wake up. He pulls the two letters from Varric out of his pouch and looks at the one still sealed with blue wax. He sets it down on the small table next to the bed. He reads Varric's plan again and can find no fault in it, but if anyone knew that Bianca was still alive the couple would be hunted and executed…if they were lucky. Gerav begins pacing the room. The only way to keep them both alive, to keep them apart and keep Varric in Kirkwall, and to do that Bianca can't know that Varric is planning to meet up with them. He rubs a hand over his tired face, heads towards the fireplace and tosses in Varric's lengthy plan.

_Bianca must never know._ He watches as the fire consumes the parchment.

..~~*~~..

Varric sits at the Hanged Man waiting for Gerav. It's been a week and there's been no new information about Bianca. He sent out word among his contacts that's he looking for Gerav and now he waits for news. A sense of dread begins to grow in his gut.

Nico walks into the Hanged Man and casually makes his way towards the blonde storyteller.

"So, you remember that Cort feller I's tellin' ya about?"

"Yeah, the Carta member who's gotta a girl in Hightown."

"That's the bloke. Turns out he ain't gotta a thing **for** a girl in Hightown, he's gotta a thing **with** a broad in Hightown. I done some sneakin' around and they's got a business thing goin' on. I seen 'em exchange coin for letters. I lifted this for ya," the child hands over the crumpled papers. Varric reads the parchment sheets. His eyes widen in disbelief and he silently praises his Ancestors for his luck. The first page he reads is a detailed schedule of the Guild's expected shipments; the second page is an assassination order, complete with Clan Rune. He knows this rune all too well, it belongs to House Saelac. This is the evidence he was hoping to get before Bianca was dragged before the Council. He begins plotting on how to get this information to the right people.

"Nico, my lad, this is worth more than you know. If you're willing I can teach you a few tricks that will help you down the road."

..~~*~~..

Gerav wakes suddenly to the sound of rustling paper and someone sniffling. He looks about the dim room and is surprised to see Bianca awake, and reading the letter he though he burned days earlier.

"Sister!"

She looks over at him with tears in her eyes. When asked, all she can do is hand him Varric's letter. He reads the words of his undying love, and the promise that he will see her soon. He learns that Varric is planning to spend his entire portion of his inheritance and cash in every favor owed to him to get her and Gerav free of Carta. They will be poor, but free to live how they choose. Her tears are those of joy, and he himself is floored by what he had just learned.

The only problem is that no one leaves the Carta. Ever. He's heard the same rumors she has about people buying their contract back, but he's looked into it further and none of those people were ever heard from again. Freedom is a lie.

"Bianca," he's always been honest with his sister before, but if he's to save her he has to lie to her. "There's been a change in plans." He can't look at her. He stands up and turns his back to her, walking towards the fireplace. "The Dwarven Merchant Guild has become suspicious and is watching Varric. He only learned of this a couple of days ago."

"What? How long have I been out?"

"Nearly a week. Varric can't leave Kirkwall. He's being followed by Merchant spies, and if he leaves they will find you."

"Surely they'll give up soon."

"Not Merchant spies. Varric said they'll follow a target for years. If they find you they will torture and execute you both. He loves you, but to protect you he has to stay in Kirkwall."

"Then I'll go to him!" She makes a move to get out of bed, but the pain in her chest stops her.

"The instant you step back in town the Carta will kill you. There are rumors among the Carta that you fled town, and they are looking for you."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine, I've been heading back to town every few days and made sure I've been seen." He turns to look at her, this statement is true. He has returned to Kirkwall, to spread rumors of her death.

"I'm so sorry, sister," is all he can say as she covers her face and cries.

..~~*~~..

"Nico!" Varric quickly crosses the bar and grabs the boy by the arms. "What have you learned? Are the rumors true?"

The child's face drops. "I…I done checked everywhere, Varric, I swear. People are saying they've seen Gerav and that he's been telling them Bianca died."

The news hits him like a physical blow. Varric releases the urchin and falls into a nearby chair. He reaches into his pouch and pulls out the payment. "Here, as promised," his words are flat and hollow

The child looks at the coins, but doesn't take them. "I can't take it. Ain't right. You's expectin' news about where she at, and all I brought you was word that your lady…" he let the words trail off. "I'm sorry Messer," Nico runs out of the bar. Varric covers his face as reality crashes in on him. He's murdered the only woman he'll ever love.

Nothing will ever be the same for him again.

..~~*~~..

Gerav has spent the past day and a half searching for Varric. He's getting tired of hearing 'oh, you just missed him,' which is Varric's code that he wants to be left alone. The dark haired dwarf is walking through Lowtown when a familiar weapon catches his eye. The gleam of polished brass and the glow of red cedar is unmistakable, Bianca's crossbow. He snatches up the weapon, confused by why it's sitting on a merchant's table.

"Ah, you have a fine eye sir," the stall owner approaches Gerav. "That crossbow has been in my family for generations. As you can see it needs some repair, new arms and such, but it's still a finely crafted item."

"Generations you say," Gerav's eyes still are on the weapon.

"Yes, but with a growing family I'm afraid I must sell it. I can let it go for 15 Silvers."

"You're lying," he looks at the human.

"I would never."

"First, I made this weapon."

"Ah, then you truly can appreciate the fine craftsmanship," the red haired salesman chuckles.

"Second, it's not broken. See?" He shifts a handle and beautifully crafted arms pop out. The human snickers nervously and jumps back.

"As it's not broken I can sell it for 50 silver."

With another button the bayonet slides out, the sun dancing along the blades edge. The merchant takes half a step back and raises his arms, but is still trying to wheel and deal but dropping the price back to the original 15.

"I bet it's even loaded," Gerav cocks his head and aims the crossbow.

"Free! Why don't you take it as my gift to you," he nervously chuckles.

"The man who gave this to you, where did he go?"

"The Hanged Man."

Gerav gives his thanks and tosses the man a couple of coppers before heading to the Hanged Man. He has no doubt that Varric heard about Bianca's death and now he has to convince the man to stay in Kirkwall.

..~~*~~..

Gerav walks into the dark bar and has to give his eyes some time to adjust to the dimness. He scans the entire tavern but doesn't see Varric anywhere.

"Where's Varric," he questions Nora as she passes by.

"You just missed him," she cheerfully answers before turning to slap an elf who grabbed her backside. Gerav shakes his and heads to the bartender.

"I'm looking for Varric, and don't you dare tell me I missed him." To prove his point, Gerav rests the crossbow on the bar, coincidentally aiming it at the human bar keep.

"Upstairs. You can't miss it," is the grumpy reply.

Gerav takes the weapon off the counter and retracts the arms. The dwarf heads upstairs and immediately finds the largest and brightly lit room with an extremely drunk Varric. The blonde is finishing off what looks to be his tenth mug. He swoons drastically and leans heavily on the fireplace to stabilize himself, his back to the room's entry.

"Varric," Gerav has never seen his friend in such a state. Varric spins wildly, throwing a dagger at the intruder and landing heavily into a nearby chair. The Carta dwarf doesn't move as he watches the knife flip through the air and bounce harmlessly off the floor a yard to his left before it slides to a stop under another chair.

"Are you here to kill me," his slurred words sound hopeful.

"No."

"Why not?!" Not giving him a chance to answer Varric drops his head to the table and cries. "I killed her," he wails. "I loved her and I killed her." Gerav slowly moves closer to the grief-stricken storyteller, he had no idea Varric would be like this. When he raises his head, he sees the weapon in Gerav's hands.

"Where did you get that?"

"Some stall a few blocks from here."

"Why? Why do you have it?"

"Because it was hers," he set it down on the long table and stands near the fireplace.

"That's why I never want to see it again!" Varric picks up a tankard intending to drink, only to find the mug empty. Frustrated he tosses the container away. He covers his face with his hands.

"She was my heart, my soul…my everything. And now she's gone," he sobs.

Guilt tears at Gerav and he faces the fireplace, he watches the glowing embers and listens to his friend's grief. Varric spills his feelings for Bianca and how lost he is without her and never notices that Gerav pulls a letter from his pouch. It's a message from Bianca to Varric that he swore to deliver. The dark haired dwarf unfolds the note and tosses the first page onto the embers. After all, he never promised to deliver the whole message and he can't leave Varric in this state.

"I'm not an archer, but aimed so carefully," he drops his head again "I thought I missed, that she would be ok. I aimed so bloody carefully."

"Your aim," he watches the embers slowly char the last of the paper. Convinced the page is destroyed he turns to Varric. "Your aim was perfect. It was close, but you missed her heart."

His head pops up and his reddened eyes lock onto the younger man.

"She's…she didn't die," a wild mix of emotions dance across the blonde's face at the news; relief, joy and even anger.

"Where is she? Is she ok? Take me to her," he stumbles from the table to grab Gerav's jerkin.

"Here she asked I give you this." Varric clutches the paper and reads the note.

_There are no words stronger than love to describe my feelings for you,  
>so I will have to make do with that word.<br>With all my heart I love you.  
>I have always loved you, and I will always love you.<br>You are my forever._

_Always,_

_B_

She had kissed the letter 'B' as she had always done in her letters to him. He carefully folds the paper and sets it on the table.

"I want to be with her. I'll give up everything; just tell me where she is."

"I can't."

"Where is she?!" Varric rushes the younger man and shakes him.

"The Carta is looking for her too," he lies. "They think she skipped out on her contract. They suspect you two were close so they're watching you. If you leave, their assassins will follow you and when they catch you they'll torture and kill you both."

"They'll lose interest. I just need to be patient," it's heartbreaking to hear the hopeful tone in Varric's words.

"No, they won't. It looks bad when a Carta lieutenant leaves. They will make an example of her. Not even I can see her again. We have to let them think she's dead."

Varric falls heavily into the chair. "I want her back," he says, looking at Gerav.

Gerav picks up the crossbow and opens a secret compartment in the stock. With curious eyes, Varric watches as Gerav produces a length of red braided hair and stuffs it into the slot before sealing it and setting the weapon down.

"She will always be with you," he slides the crossbow over to Varric and watches as the blonde hesitantly picks it up.

"Bianca," his fingers tenderly caress the length of the stock.

Gerav looks back towards the fireplace with a single thought echoing in his head.

_Varric must never know that Bianca's pregnant._


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything, Dragon Age is not mine. The characters, game content and materials in the following story are copyrighted to BioWare. Neither I, nor this story, are endorsed by or affiliated with BioWare, or its licensors or subsidiaries. I do not receive any monetary compensation from the publication of this narrative. All Rights Reserved.

*.._.._._..._._.._..~~~**~~~.._.._._..._._.._..*

**Chapter 5**

15 Years Later…

~*…..…...~~~**~~~..…..…..*~

It's been a year since Anders' attack on the chantry and the collapse of the Circle. Kirkwall is rebuilding itself and thanks to the shrewd business sense of the city's Viscountess, Marian Hawke, it has been progressing faster than most were expecting. She's secured assistance in the form of donations, labor, and supplies. Her political prowess and negotiation tactics are described as 'awe inspiring.' While some debate her decisions, she logically defends her choices, and while she may not gain supporters they can understand her reasons. With her new position and hectic schedule she has almost no time to visit her friends who still drink at the rebuilt Hanged Man.

Night has fallen and a thick layer of clouds hides both the rising moon and twinkling stars. A pleasantly warm breeze pushes through Hightown and into an open window at the Hawke estate. The draft rifles a few pages and passes over the sleeping forms of Bethany and Fenris curled together by the fireplace. A soft pressure on his chest wakes Fenris and his eyes snap open ready to deal with the threat. Instead he finds Bethany, curled beside him, resting her head on his chest. What surprises him even more is that his arms are wrapped protectively about the dark haired mage. He looks around, his mind replaying the events just before he fell asleep. He'd come to Hawke's home for help with his reading; however, Viscountess Hawke's schedule leaves little time for personal freedoms so Bethany helped him. At some point they moved from the library to the sitting room where they both enjoyed their books, and had fallen asleep on the floor.

The elf slowly detangles from Bethany and rises to his feet with the thought of returning to his home. The next thought he has is that he can't leave Hawke's little sister asleep on the floor. Gently, he gathers her up in his arms and carries her up to her room, not knowing that Orana is watching him.

He gently lays her on the bed and removes her boots before covering her with a blanket. Fenris gently strokes her soft dark curls while watching her sleep and finds himself respecting this young woman. Despite the Templars executing every mage they happen upon, she not only remains, but has helped with some of the cleanup in Kirkwall. Three times a week she's helping the Chantry with clearing-out some of the debris and charity drives. Twice a week she's helping Lowtown and the Alienage, and once a week she's offering assistance in Darktown, and neither he nor Marian are happy about Bethany going into Darktown. Since the battle, Darktown has become increasingly dangerous and inhospitable, even the Carta are reluctant to enter this area. Fenris has taken it upon himself to escort her to and from Darktown and his presence has been enough to ward of any attacks, so far. He's also relieved to learn that she employs the use of a disguise when she ventures out into public, still hiding from the Templars, despite her sister's lofty position. The mage uses a combination of theatrical tricks and magic to change her looks. With clothing and padding she adds on the appearance of five pounds and that she is just a humble peasant. She employs the use of makeup to alter her skin tone. Finally she uses magic to change her eyes to green and lengthy black curls to a short straight blonde bob. Even with her frenzied agenda, she still finds time for him. She makes him feel as if he could truly be happy and that thought scares him. It scares him almost as much as the realization that he's developing feelings for a mage.

..~~*~~..

Marian Hawke quietly slips in through the front door of her home and is startled by the slender blonde elven woman suddenly appearing to take her cloak.

"Orana!"

"Good evening Mistress. I hope all was well today." The elf bows respectfully with the cloak bundled in her arms.

"Orana, you don't need to wait up for me. We've talked about this."

"Yes Mistress, I remember. But I wanted to wait for you. You work so hard for Kirkwall that sometimes you forget to take care of yourself."

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine," she makes her way into the front room where she sees Bethany's book resting on the couch. The elf follows.

"Yes Mistress, I have a small plate of food and some drink set aside for you in the dining room."

"Thank you. Where's Bethany?"

"Mast…uh, Messere Fenris carried her to her room a while ago."

"Fenris," she can't keep the shocked tone from her voice. "Why don't you go to bed Orana and I'll see you in the morning."

"As you wish, Mistress."

Hawke smiles at the woman and watches her leave for her bedchamber before she herself heads upstairs. She leans against the wall near her sister's room, crosses her arms and waits. She doesn't wait long before Fenris creeps out of the door.

"Fenris," her voice is soft and carefully neutral.

"Hawke," he looks back to room behind him and realizes that there is nothing he can say which will make the situation better.

"Come have a drink with me," he knows this is not a request that he should turn down. He quietly follows his friend into the dining room where she pours two drinks and pushes the small plate of bread, dried meats and cheeses between them.

Fenris wraps his hands about his cup and watches her eat a few bits of food and sip her beverage. He thinks about saying something to break the uncomfortable silence between them, but cannot find anything that would not result in injury mostly on his part. Finally the stillness is unbearable and he opens his mouth to speak when Hawke talks over him.

"We had just settled in Lothering when the twins were born. We didn't know anyone so I had to help Father with their delivery. Carver was first born. He was healthy and screaming his fool head off, but Bethany," she pauses for a sip, collecting her thoughts. "Bethany was so still and so quiet." Her blue eyes looked haunted at the memory. "I had to hold her while Father worked to heal her. I was the first one to hold her, and she was so tiny." Hawke suddenly pulls her mind from the past and into the present her eyes are clear and focused as she looks at the white haired elf. "I don't know what's going on between you and Bethany, Fenris, but I know your feelings on mages," she raises a hand to stop him from speaking. "I'm begging you; please don't break my baby sister's heart."

..~~*~~..

Varric waves at Angelina, a new waitress at the Hanged Man, and signals for her to bring a round from his stash. The dwarven woman nods and heads into the back room which is still undergoing repairs. Tonight there is no diamondback game; an old friend of Varric's has been in town for nearly a week and tonight he's at the Hanged Man drinking ale and sharing stories. Isabela raises a glass and joins in Varric's toast is his friend Nico. The trio finish their drinks as Angelina brings up another round, she throws Varric a wink and sets down the mugs.

"I think she likes you," Nico picks up one of the new mugs and hooks a stray strand of his golden hair behind his ear. Varric looks at the man sitting next to him, then towards the stairs. Each time he sees Nico he's amazed at how that foul-mouthed, ill-mannered hooligan has grown into such a suave and sophisticated rogue.

"She's sweet, but my heart is already spoken for."

Isabela smirks and leans forward, emphasizing her impressive cleavage. "Your heart may belong to Bianca, but I think your trousers are up for grab."

"Rivaini, my eyes are up here."

"But the chest hair," she sighs her eyes becoming glassy and dreamy. Nico laughs, and begins a tale about how Varric's chest hair got him out of trouble with one of the Guards. Isabela glances down the stairs in time to see an unfamiliar skinny, tanned elf, with jet black hair walk in. She casually watches him move about the tavern speaking with staff and patrons alike. Finally the elf speaks with Corff who points towards the stairs.

"I think you're about to have a guest Varric," she warns.

"Looks like a messenger," Nico adds. "At least it's not from the Merchant Guild." Nico prepares a dagger beneath the table…just in case.

"True, Corff knows all the Dwarven Merchant Guild messengers and hates each and every one of them," Varric sets his tankard down and lovingly stokes Bianca's outstretched arms. If a fight occurs he wants his lady close and ready for action.

"Varric Tethras? I have a message for you from the City of Nevarra." The dark skinned elf says.

"Nevarra," Varric takes the folded and sealed parchment, his curiosity piqued. "Who in blazes do I know in Nevarra?" He breaks the wax seal and a small, round, flat stone falls out and bounces across that table. Nico is quick to grab it before it falls to the floor. The dwarf reads the short missive, written in a hand he thought he'd never see again.

_Help._

_B_

There's a dark pink kiss mark is over the letter B. He quickly snatches the stone from Nico and finds himself staring at a Boon-Coin with the House Tethras rune on one side and 'V+B' poorly carved on the other.

"Where did you get this," he loudly demands, aiming Bianca at the startled elf. "Where?!" His actions are so quick and so out of character that Isabela has readied her blades and Nico is on his feet.

"From my dispatcher," with raised hands he backs into the wall. "I don't know who wrote it. I swear. I'm just a courier."

Nico studies the paper and sees the mark of the Couriers' Guild of Nevarra.

"Varric, he speaks the truth. Couriers like him are common in Nevarra. The fact that he's here means someone paid a lot of coin. Look, here's the mark of the Courier's Guild," Nico tries to calm the dwarf with logic.

"It's true! It's true!"

Varric collapses back into his seat, staring at the one word letter in his hands. Nico calms the messenger and weaves a rather believable tale about the note being from a friend thought dead as he escorts the elf to the stairs. He even pays the man several silvers for the trouble and waves him on his way.

"By the Void Varric," Nico takes his seat and lifts his mug. "What was that all about?"

"Bianca," he answers still in a daze. "Bianca needs my help."

Ale nearly shoots from Nico's nose at Varric's confession. He swallows quickly, the liquid sitting like a rock in gut. Isabela slams her mug onto the table and stares the storyteller. The dwarf mentally kicks himself for his honest answer.

"Wait, did you say Bianca? _The_ Bianca," Isabela asks in disbelief.

"Varric, it can't be Bianca."

"Wait a minute, you mean there really was a girl named Bianca?" Isabela continues her attempts to pry information from the stunned dwarf.

"I never said there wasn't, Rivaini." Varric throws Nico a quick look and the human hides his nod behind his tankard. If he ever wants his questions about Bianca answered he will keep his mouth shut. The dusky skinned pirate is clueless to what passed between the human and dwarf.

"I bet you know the story," she turns her attention to Nico.

"Regrettably, my dear woman, it's not my story to tell."

"Oh, you're no fun." She suddenly stands, and places her hands on her hips. "Fine then, if you're going to Nevarra then going by boat will save you at least a week's time, and I'm your captain."

"Rivaini," Varric protests.

"If you're going after Bianca, you'll need someone to watch your back. It'll be just like the old times with Hawke."

"Rivaini," Varric sighs, rubbing his brow. "I hate to point out the obvious, but you don't have a ship. Remember, it was destroyed a year ago."

"I know," she groans. "And just after I finished getting rid of all the horrid, mustard yellow satin Castion seemed obsessed with. I'm sure Hawke can arrange something."

"Well, she's not arranging anything tonight. We'll have to see her in the morning."

"Fine, I'll meet you at the Keep come morning," she picks up her mug and heads towards the stairs.

"Where are you going," Nico asks.

"I'm a pirate, sweetheart, I'm searching for booty." She winks and heads downstairs.

"Nico, do you have any contacts in Nevarra?"

"I might have a couple. You need me to look into something?"

"Yeah, Kid I do. Here," Varric retrieves a small, but heavy coin purse from a hidden panel near the mantle. "You'll need this."

"Keep it. This one is on me," Nico raises a hand to stop any interruption. "You saved my life Varric, the lessons you taught me allowed me to become more than just some everyday lowlife thug. I would not be who I am today if you didn't see it and encourage it. Between your spy network and mine we could find out what color small clothes the Divine is wearing. Tell me what you need."

..~~*~~..

Viscountess Hawke sits behind her large desk reviewing and signing contracts, proposals, and amendments. Sebastian is standing near the door watching her. Since reclaiming the throne of Starkhaven he can empathize with her and offers her some advice. He's also in Kirkwall on official business, to solidify some trade agreements between their two cities. As he watches her a question that has been nagging him for some time bubbles to the surface.

"Hawke, can I ask you a personal question?"

"After everything we've been through together, I'm surprised you feel the need to ask permission," it's a relief to him that she can still be humorous.

"About Anders."

She pauses mid-signature and something crosses over her face. She quickly finishes her signature and hands the stack of papers to Bran with instructions for their delivery. Once the two are alone she looks up at him.

"What about Anders," her tone is carefully neutral, but her body is tense as if preparing for an attack.

"Your…relationship with him. I never understood why you choose him."

She sighs heavily and moves to the window, thinking it will be easier to answer him if she doesn't have to look into his blue eyes.

"I was so ready to be in love. To have someone in my life who could accept me for who and what I am. And he was…there, and accepting."

He crosses the room to stand near her. "But why him? Was there no one else who caught your fancy?"

"There was, but he was promised to someone else and I wasn't going to ask him to choose." She still is not looking at him.

"You're a beautiful, intelligent and resourceful woman. Who could refuse you?"

She looks at him, her blue eyes holding the answer before her lips ever move. "A man of faith."

"Hawke…Marian, I never knew. I…" he stutters, taken aback by this discovery.

"I know. I worked hard to keep it that way. If I couldn't have you I at least had your friendship and that was a way of keeping you close."

"Did Anders know?"

"Yes, and I think that's what made it easier for me to," she pauses to collect her words. "To do what needed to be done. He would have left you in the Chantry. The only reason you weren't was because I had just happened to have asked for your help that day."

He lifts her chin and looks into her eyes. "Marian, do you still have feelings for me?"

"Yes," her voice is barely audible.

"Then take comfort in knowing that you're not alone. I have dreamt of you many times." He moves in to kiss her but stops when she places her hands on his chest.

"But your vows," she protests.

"Elthina never allowed me to renew them." Again he moves in to kiss her, this time she doesn't resist. "Princes aren't meant for chastity," he whispers against her lips.

"I like how you negotiate with foreign dignitaries, Hawke." Isabela's voice shatters the mood and Hawke groans and rolls her eyes.

"Choir Boy is butter."

Sebastian coughs and attempts to stop blushing.

"What do you want," the frustration is evident in Hawke's voice.

"I need a ship," Isabela blurts. Varric groans as he was planning a more subtle approach to such a large favor.

"No," Hawke sits behind the desk. "Just because I'm Viscountess does not mean the city's coffers are at my disposal. I can't use city funds however I please."

"Yes you can," Isabela protests.

"But I won't. I have a lot of people looking up to me and I won't let them down."

"Hawke, we won't keep it…we just need to borrow it for a bit," Varric interjects.

"Give me one good reason why."

"Varric got a letter from Bianca," the pirate blurts. The dwarf glares her and again wishes he had said nothing about who wrote the letter.

"The crossbow?" Hawke asks, intentionally attempting to put Varric in an uncomfortable spot.

"No, the girl! You know the one he can't talk about."

"Wait, you mean to say that Bianca is real? A real, live breathing woman," Hawke's eyes move between Isabela and Varric.

"Yes, and I'm going to meet her…well, as soon as you give me a ship that is."

"Isabela," Hawke sighs. "I'm not giving you a ship."

"Then let me borrow one."

"You're a pirate. Your definition of borrow is different from mine."

"Look this time, I really will give it…all right I can't say it with a straight face."

"Where do you need to go," Sebastian asks.

"Cumberland and from there we travel to Nevarra," the pirate volunteers, Varric glares at the dark skinned woman and wonders why he agreed to let her accompany him to speak with Hawke.

"Varric, I'm sorry, but I can't. Kirkwall has no ships in the harbor at the moment, the last left last night and I don't think any are due back anytime soon. The ships that are there now are not mine to command. I'd pay from my own pocket to have a ship built for you, but that will take months."

"Perhaps, I can help," Sebastian says. "Starkhaven has a ship in port that will be heading to Cumberland in a couple of days. If you like I could arrange something. But I want you to answer one question first, Varric."

"I can't tell you Bianca's story."

"I'll not ask you to break your promise," the Prince assures.

"Then what do you want to know?"

"How did Bianca get you to keep her story a secret?"

"How does any woman get such a promise from a man," he shrugs. "She had me by the balls."


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything, Dragon Age is not mine. The characters, game content and materials in the following story are copyrighted to BioWare. Neither I, nor this story, are endorsed by or affiliated with BioWare, or its licensors or subsidiaries. I do not receive any monetary compensation from the publication of this narrative. All Rights Reserved.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I am using the term physiker (pronounced as fizz-icker) to describe all non-mages who are trained in the healing arts (the phrase doctor seemed too mundane and modern).

*.._.._._..._._.._..~~~**~~~.._.._._..._._.._..*

**Chapter 6**

"I don't care what people say, the sound of waves is not soothing."

~*…..…...~~~**~~~..…..…..*~

The sun is just started peaking over the horizon and the wharf is a bustle of activity. Cargo, and supplies being loaded and off loaded from the varied ships at the docks. Varric yawns and makes his way past the multitude of workers as he grumbles about the unholy hour. The ship he's looking for is called the Summergale, a merchant ship sailing under the Starkhaven banner. The captain was granted an extended shore leave, leaving Isabela in command, at least until they reach Cumberland where the new captain will be picked up to bring the ship back to Kirkwall. Summergale will take him to Cumberland, but it will not bring him back to Kirkwall. Sebastian insisted that his crew remain onboard and Isabela may not bring any of her 'crew'. The Prince of Starkhaven left virtually no opening for Isabela to declare the Summergale as 'under new management'.

The ship is a large triple mast galleon, made from the dark, hard wood which grows near Starkhaven. The Mainmast stretches high into the sky, as if it's trying to touch the heavens. Polished brass gleams in startling contract to the dark wood. The ship is impressive and pulls a soft whistle from Varric. He watches as massive amounts of heavy white canvas is hauled onboard by dockhands, while the cook is overseeing the supplies and foods for the galley. A line of men waits patiently to speak with a dark haired elf holding a list.

"So, Isabela was telling the truth." Varric turns to see Fenris leaning casually against a crate. "You are leaving Kirkwall."

"Don't worry, Elf, I'll be back before you know it."

"I'm not worried. I'm going with you."

"And so am I." a hooded woman approached the two men. She pushes the hood back to reveal a familiar dark haired mage.

"Sunshine!" He grins from ear to ear. "It's good to see you out."

"Hello Varric," she smiles and quickly pulls her hood up, once again concealing her face.

"You're not coming," Varric's face and tone serious.

"I agree," Fenris interjects.

"Either of you," the dwarf clarifies.

"Yes, I am." Fenris and Bethany answer at the same time.

"No, you're not," Varric and Fenris say in unison. Fenris is referring to Bethany, while Varric is referencing the pair of them.

"Look, I need to get out of Kirkwall, just for a little while. The Templars are starting to make life difficult for my sister. We spoke last night and we both agree that my leaving is the best solution."

"Sunshine, I don't know what I'll be facing, but I'm pretty sure it'll be dangerous and as valuable as a mage is, at present there a lot of people looking for them."

"Sister has been teaching me to fight, so I don't have to rely solely on magic. She even loaned me her old armour, see?" She flips the cloak open and reveals the high quality Messenger Armour Hawke had collected a few years back. The dark crimson and tan leather hug her supple curves and cause both men's jaws to drop. Marian has a slender, athletic build, while her younger sister was blessed with a more tantalizing figure and fuller breasts. Fenris cannot recall if Hawke ever looked so beautiful in that suit.

"Uh, Sunshine, you may want to close your cloak before you start a riot."

"I know some healing magic, you need me."

"Your staff will draw unwanted attention," Fenris reasons.

"Mages don't need staffs to cast. Staffs just provide extra focus, besides Sandal gave me a gift before he and Bodahn left for Orlais." She produces the twin blades she has been learning to fight with and passes them to Fenris.

He takes one of the weapons and the warrior in him immediately appreciates the fine craftsmanship of the keenly honed blade, and the excellent balance. Hawke always did have an eye for swords. The lyrium in him; however, pulses in time the weapon's enchantment. "They're enchanted." He doesn't sound surprised, handing it back.

"I can use them as I would a staff. Well, in regards to casting anyway."

"Yes, I can see how a fire spitting sword would less obvious than a staff," Varric points out in his normal sarcastic tone.

"It's too dangerous for you," Fenris reasons.

"Maker's breath man, I'm not a child, and unless you're going to carry me back to Hightown, I'm getting on that ship."

"Well, Elf, it sounds like we have no choice," Varric says to Fenris. The elf nods in agreement and easily sweeps the mage off her feet and over his shoulder.

"Fenris," she yelps. "What are you doing? Put me down!"

"I'm taking you back to Hightown," he begins making his way through the crowd.

"If you do that we'll both miss the ship."

Fenris pauses and looks back at the dwarf who covers his face and hangs his head. This was Varric's plan, which had just backed fired. Still carrying Bethany over his shoulder, Fenris closes the distance and glares at his short friend with an accusatory look upon his face.

"Fine, you can both come," he throws up his hands in exasperation. Fenris gently sets Bethany back on her feet.

"Thank you Varric," Bethany says her hands now on her hips.

"Holy shit…" Varric says, pointing towards the last member of their party.

"Indeed," Fenris agrees, his eyes glued to the figure Varric is pointing at.

"What are you…oh. Oh my."

Isabela walks onto the docks as if they are her personal property. Her dark hair secured under her signature blue head wrap, and her equally famous bosom is barely confined within her top. The black under bust corset that she's so fond of wearing is sporting a new red ribbon, which draws the eyes back up to her notable cleavage. She's also wearing a forest green captain's coat with white and gold trim. Large black cuffs match the lapels and proudly display detailed gold embroidered swirls along the outermost seams. Nearly two dozen brass buttons run from chest to waist, with an additional six on the cuffs and each one glints in the early morning light. Every step she takes reveals a flash of the coat's black liner, with more of the intricate embroidery along the lower hem. Her black, thigh high boots are nothing new, but the leather pants are. Brown doe skin pants seem painted on her legs, the hint of her dark skin peeking through the laced up slits on the front and outer side of each leg. This is not the pirate wench they have known all these years; this is Captain Isabela and she is here to claim her ship and crew.

She walks with a purpose as she makes her way to her companions. Upon joining the trio she immediately pulls Bethany's hood back, revealing her face.

"Isabela," she clutches at the hood, but the pirate refuses to release the fabric.

"Hello Sweetness," she smiles. "Nothing is more conspicuous than a hooded figure on the docks."

Bethany opens her mouth to say something, then promptly closes it and releases the hood, seeing the logic in Isabela's words.

"Have you always had," Fenris is pointing at her outfit, but cannot find the words that would make his question more polite.

"No, I won the coat last night in a game of Wicked Grace. I saw it and simply had to have it."

"Um, no I meant, the uh…"

"The what?"

"The pants, Rivaini," Varric finishes for the Elf. "Have you always had pants?"

She looks down at her leggings. "Yes," she answers as if it were obvious.

"Then why haven't you worn them before?" Bethany asks.

"Did you read any of those books I sent you," she winks and a bright blush races across the mage's cheeks. "It's so much easier to reenact the naughty parts without pants."

"But you're wearing them now," She points out.

"Of course I am. You think any of these scallywags will listen to a damn word I say otherwise?" She laughs and looks over at the ship. "She's a lovely Galleon, plenty of cargo room, but it means that unless you want to share the crew quarters you're all bunking with me. Except Bethany, she'll be in my cabin regardless."

"Why?"

"Bethany," Isabela drapes her arm over the mage's shoulders. "You're a sweet, pretty, little thing that's going to be trapped aboard a ship with a lot of men who haven't seen a woman in quite a while. I think it will be safer if you bunk with me."

"Oh."

"Exactly, now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to talk to the Bo'sn."

"The who," Fenris asks watching.

"That guy," she points to the elf with the list. "He's what you might call a foreman…of sorts."

"Well, while she's doing that we might as well make sure our things make onboard," Varric suggests.

..~~*~~..

It's been four days out at sea, and Isabela looks as if she'd been welcomed back home. She's a no nonsense Captain who takes her responsibilities to the ship and welfare of the crew seriously. There was only one snide remark regarding her gender and it resulted in a broken nose after which she placed her hands on her hips and asked if anyone else had problem. Remarkably, no one did.

Bethany still doesn't have her 'sea legs' but other than that she's having no problems with sea travelling or with the sailors. Isabela made it very clear what she thought about anyone bothering Bethany. The dark haired girl receives a couple of side looks and sneers, but no one says what they are thinking. In fact no one has even approached her, with the exception of one sailor, a human names Jaeden. He's always respectful, but he's also cautious to make certain Isabela's attention is elsewhere.

Fenris is not dealing well with being on a ship. His first two days were wracked with horrible bouts of nausea and vomiting. On the third day Bethany makes him an herbal tea which calms his stomach, and eases his headache, but the elf still spends most of his time resting in the crew's quarters.

Varric, like Fenris, has settled in the crew's quarters, but unlike the warrior the dwarf quickly adapted to travel by sea. As troubled as Varric's mind might be, he distracts himself by entertaining the crew with stories, playing games of chance and learning about ships and sailing by watching and listening to Isabela. Any hesitations or concerns he might have about seeing his lady love after so many years is buried by keeping busy. But at the moment, there's nothing to do and no one to entertain. He stands by the railing and gazes out at the open sea. Despite his bravado he is worried about the reception he'll receive.

"Thinking about Bianca," Fenris joins the dwarf, leaning his back against the railing so that he can focus on something other than the roiling sea.

"Nope, just wondering how you survived your initial trip to Seheron." It's a lie, but the warrior doesn't know that.

"I'd rather not talk about that," green eyes soon find Bethany across the deck.

"Fair enough." The two men enjoy a moment of silence. Fenris watches Bethany as she closes her eyes and savors the warm sun on her face. The wind toys with her dark curls and there is just the barest hint of a smile on her pink lips.

"You should talk to her," Varric's eyes never the leave the ocean.

"About what," is the grumbled response.

"You like her."

"What are you talking about?"

"Bethany. I see how you look at her. Like right now,"

Green eyes move from Bethany to Varric. "I'm just looking out for her. One of the sailors has been spending a lot of time with her."

"You mean Jaeden," Varric gestures towards the dark haired human approaching Bethany. They watch as the sailor casually leans against the railing and speaks quietly with the soft spoken mage. She laughs at his joke, and politely refuses the flask he offers.

"If he touches her I'll break every bone in his body."

"Spoken like a jealous man."

"I'm not jealous. I'm looking after Hawke's little sister."

Bethany and Jaeden continue to talk and he casually reaches out to play with one of her curls. She smiles, a faint blush reddens her cheeks and she gently pushes his hand away.

"Looks like she has things under control," Varric points out. The charming smile never falters on the sailor's face as he continues to talk, trying to win his way into her underclothes.

"As with all mages, looks can be deceiving," Fenris looks over at the dwarf. His disdain of magic creeps into his words, but doesn't quite reach his green eyes.

"You don't hate all mages. Listen, Elf, take some advice from a man who's made mistakes…"

Varric doesn't get to finish his sentence as there's a loud shout, followed by a crash and screaming. All heads turn towards the commotion. A set of pulleys fell from the foremast where another sailor was working. The pulleys landed on Jaeden injuring his leg severely. Bethany is doing her best to stop the bleeding and calling for the ship's physiker. Fenris and Varric rush over, but find they are of little help, like the other sailors clamoring about. Isabela runs towards the crowd, pushing people out of the way, the physiker close behind her.

"Get him below," Isabela orders. Fenris helps the men move their wounded comrade while Bethany follows. Having assisted Anders in his clinic before going to the Circle, she feels certain she will be able to help without using magic.

"Everybody back to work," she point up at the sailor who was manning the block when it fell and gestures for him to stand before her. "What happened, Tedrick?"

"I don't know Captain. It just slipped from my hands."

"And you weren't using a safety line? Is that how you do things? Is it?!" She stands before the blonde human with her hands on her hips and her eyes flashing in anger. The First Mate stands with her, ready to carry out any punishment she deems fit. Varric is also standing nearby; he has never seen this side of Isabela and is very glad her wrath is not directed at him. He almost feels sorry for the lad.

The Sailor instantly straightens up, "no Ser."

"Then why weren't you using a safety line?"

"I don't have an answer Ser."

"Want to know what I think? I think you were getting an eyeful of Bethany and had your hand down your trousers when you should've been securing a safety line. Am I right?"

"Um…I…I…uh…"

"Tomas," she addresses her first mate.

"Yes, Captain," his response it prompt and professional.

"Lock him in irons until we find out what happens with his shipmate, and his rations are revoked for tonight. I'm going to check on Jaeden."

..~~*~~..

Bethany administers a numbing potion to the wound while Rawland, the ship's physiker, collects his surgical kit. Fenris ushers everyone else out and stands back, guarding the door. She calms Jaeden down and helps him drink the remainder of the numbing potion while the physiker evaluates the damage. She assists Rawland, without being over bearing, and is prompt to hand over the tools he needs. She's cautious not to ignore Jaeden and works her charm to keep him calm and still, while the physiker does what he can to stop the bleeding. Finally the numbing potion takes effect and the injured sailor passes out. Rawland praises the maker and uses his wrist to push a stray strand of blonde hair from his face.

Finally he can focus on the mangled mass of the lower left leg. "This ain't good. Bone's damn near shattered, there's damage to this artery and this vein. I can't fix this."

"What are you going to do," Bethany offers him a rag when he holds out his hand.

"I'm going to have to amputate."

"There must be something else that can be done."

"Sweetheart, I'm not a healer, I'm a physiker. I can set fractures, suture wounds, tend to fevers even do some surgeries, but I cannot fix a shattered bone," He turns to gather the instruments he'll need to the amputation.

"I can save the leg," she blurts.

"Bethany," Fenris warns.

"I have to try."

"And what are you going to do little girl? How are you going to save that?"

She swallows, and settles the butterflies in the stomach. It's risky revealing her magic, especially since word of Kirkwall has spread throughout Thedas. The Mages and Templars are on the brink of war, and currently there is a large bounty out on every wandering apostate turned in to any of the remaining circles. Worst case scenario they are killed outright and mages are always treated with suspicion. The door opens and Isabela steps in before Bethany can answer.

"How is he?"

"The leg needs to be amputated," Rawland sets his large blade and bone saw down.

"I can save the leg."

Isabela and Fenris look at her, silently advising caution.

"I can't get him up and walking, but I can save the leg."

"How," Rawland repeats.

"Magic," she looks him in the eyes almost daring him to say something, while hoping for acceptance.

"You're a healer," there's relief in the physiker's voice, and a slight smile on his face. It's obvious that removing the leg was the last thing he wanted to do.

"No, but I know some healing magic."

"So you can save the leg."

"I think I can, but it won't be easy."

"You work on him, we'll come up with a cover story to explain your exhaustion," Rawland approaches Isabela and Fenris, correctly assuming they know her mage secret.

..~~*~~..

Varric remained on deck, certain that he would get all of the details later. He watches the crew bustle about, with more haste and purpose than before. His curiosity piqued, he grabs Tomas and asks about the commotion.

Tomas points to a dark grey, fuzzy line low in the skyline. "We got a storm on the horizon and if the wind doesn't change we'll be in it by nightfall."

"How can I help?"

"Secure your belongings and stay out of the way."

..~~*~~..

True to her word, Bethany was able to save the sailor's leg. She collapses from the effort and Fenris is quick to gather her up into his arms.

"I'm sorry Fenris. I'm so sorry I can't stop it," her voice is faint and her words are muttered into his neck.

"I know Bethany. It's all right," his voice is gentle as he carries her out of the infirmary and up to her cot. He doesn't need to ask why she's apologizing; he can feel her drawing on the mana in his lyrium. He knows she's not doing is deliberately, but she used so much mana that her body is seeking it out.

Rawland binds the leg in a splint and estimates the leg will be fully healed in about six weeks, but he should remain in the infirmary for a couple of days and would be fit only for light duty. Satisfied with the results, Isabela seeks out Tomas. She's decided that Tedrick can spend the night in irons and return to his duties in the morning. She's also going to update him on Jaeden's condition.

Fenris deftly avoids the various crewmen rushing about to complete Tomas' orders. He's so focused upon the delicate woman in his arms that he's oblivious to bustling bodies moving around him. He also misses all the talk of storm. She's asleep before he reaches the Captain's quarters. He lays her on her cot and removes her boots before covering her up. He's envious of the peaceful look on her face as she sleeps, and pushes a stray curl away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. He finds himself thinking that he could be happy with her, but that thought is immediately followed by the thought that she deserves someone better. Knowing that Hawke does not disapprove of him being with Bethany helps, but many of his insecurities creep into his heart, preventing him from telling the mage how he feels.

"Hey Elf," Varric barges into the room without warning, "you'd better secure your stuff. It looks like we're about to be hit by a storm."


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything, Dragon Age is not mine. The characters, game content and materials in the following story are copyrighted to BioWare. Neither I, nor this story, are endorsed by or affiliated with BioWare, or its licensors or subsidiaries. I do not receive any monetary compensation from the publication of this narrative. All Rights Reserved.

*.._.._._..._._.._..~~~**~~~.._.._._..._._.._..*

**Chapter 7**

"You know I was just wondering 'what's missing here?' A giant storm, of course."

~*…..…...~~~**~~~..…..…..*~

The wind picks up as the sun just beginning its decent, carrying the smell of ozone and sea water. The last of the sails is secured and all unnecessary hands have retreated from the deck. By the time dusk envelopes the ship, gale force winds are bombarding the boat and crew. Isabela is shouting to he heard over the wind as she continues to give orders. Lightning flashes which illuminates the sea in a blinding white light before the low rumbling thunder echoes in the heavens. Isabela stands at the helm, tightly clutching the large wooden wheel.

"Fenris, Varric, Get below decks before the storm hits," the high winds steal the words from her lips.

"I'll take my chances on deck," Fenris struggles to keep his footing as the ship begins to rock more violently.

"Angus, secure that line," Isabela points to the line in question before addressing Fenris' wish to stay topside.

"I will not do well below deck," he confesses, referring to his sea-sickness.

"Just stay out of the way, and use a safety line."

"I'll check on Bethany," Varric says, stumbling into a railing as a wave crashes into the side of the ship. He clutches on to the railing for balance as he makes his way down the short flight of stairs leading down from the helm. He nearly loses his balance when he reaches the bottom step as the ship keels again. Feeling a bit more stable, Varric closes the short distance to Isabela's cabin. Another flash of lightening illuminates the dark; Varric enters the large cabin and closes the door behind him.

"Varric?" Bethany's voice is thick and sluggish; she'd only been asleep for about half an hour.

"It's me Sunshine. I thought I'd keep you company for a bit."

"What's happening?"

"A storm hit."

She is wide awake now. "We should go help," she throws back the blankets and places her feet on the floor.

"We need to stay out of the way, Rivaini has things under control."

"Where are my boots," she looks around and finally snatches them from under the cot. "The last time she was in a storm, she wound up shipwrecked in Kirkwall for years."

"True and I can see how the shocking lack of Qunari out for her blood could increase her odds for success."

"Varric, I'm serious," she pulls on her boots and rises to her feet.

"Sunshine, Rivaini wants us to stay out of the way. She's been sailing the seas a lot longer than you or I so I'm going to trust her on this one."

"Where's Fenris?"

"He's staying on deck; he doesn't think he'll do well otherwise."

"Oh," she understands what Varric is not saying. "What are we going to do while they're up there?"

"Play Diamondback," the dwarf pulls a deck of cards from his coat pocket.

"Only if it's not Strip Diamondback, the last time I played that I lost everything…including my small clothes. Come to think of it, I never did get those back."

"Oh this I have to hear," he sits at the large desk and shuffles the cards.

"Nothing to tell really; I was in the Circle and some of us got together to play, when the Templars weren't looking of course. Beltanio won, didn't even lose his boots, anyway at the end of the game we all got out robes back in the morning and learned to not play Strip-Diamondback against an apostate from Antiva. You know I bet he kept all of the girls' small clothes, he probably enjoyed wearing them. He was always a little strange."

Varric burst into laughter as he dealt out the first hand.

..~~*~~..

Fenris is not happy. The rain is coming down in sheets, pelting his skin with near bruising force. The wind roars and the sound of the waves crashing against the ship is deafening. The ship rocks violently and Isabela is practically screaming to be heard over the storm. Fenris is grateful beyond words that she insisted he use the safety line just as he curses it each time it bites into him when he loses his footing. The elf watches as the dark skinned captain clings tightly to the wheel despite the weather's attempt otherwise. His green eyes watch as she struggles to steer the ship.

"Isabella," Fenris' eyes widen as he watches her. "Are you steering into the storm?"

Her answer is drowned by the boom of thunder. A massive wave crashes into the vessel, and Isabela is thrown from the helm. Fenris instantly lunges forward and manages to grab her before she reaches the end of her safety rope. With his help she resumes her position at the helm and spins the wheel to regain her course towards the eye of the storm. Lightening dances in the clouds and the thunder drowns out all other sounds. The intensity of the waves increases as if the sea itself were working against the ship reaching its goal.

The ship rolls almost completely on its side and for a breathtaking moment Fenris believe they are going to capsize. Suddenly the waves change and ship is thrown upright and Fenris slams into the railing as Isabela screams obscenities to the sky. The elf clutches onto the railing and finds himself praying to the Maker.

..~~*~~..

The ship shifts suddenly and Bethany and Varric are thrown from their chairs and hit the floor with hollow, echoing thud.

"By the Maker," Bethany tries to get to her feet. The ship lurches again and the pair tumble back to the ground. More vulgarities fill the room, this time from Varric, as Bianca comes free of her holster. Their world shifts again and they slide across the floor and hit the wall. The cards and papers on the desk fly off the table, which has been secured to the floor, and join them again the wall. Another violent movement of the ship sends the couple and anything not secured down into a nearby corner where Varric hits his head. His vision blurred and fading he watches as a chair hits the crossbow and releases a bolt. The last thing he hears is Bethany screaming before everything goes black.

..~~*~~..

It's as if the Summergale passed through a magical barrier. The sea seems calmer here and a gentle mist, barely worthy of the name rain, covers the ship. It's only the churning water and deep rumbling and cracking of thunder that betrays the severity of the storm. Fenris is looking about like a startled child.

"We're in the eye of the storm," she explains. "Tomas," she shouts to her First Mate. "Check for injuries and damage then secure anything that might have come loose. Hurry man, we don't have long." The elf salutes and rushes below deck to fulfill her orders. Those that remain on deck are bustling to secure lines that have some loose and make whatever hasty repairs they can.

"If it makes you feel any better I've been in worse storms," she almost cheerfully encourages.

"It doesn't," is the grumbled reply.

"The second half might be just as bad."

"That's not very reassuring."

"It could be worse."

Fenris curses in Arcanum and wills his stomach to settle.

She throws her head back and laughs. "You might want to take this time to check on Bethany and Varric," she takes a moment to wring some of the water out her coat. "They might have gotten tossed around a bit."

"That's not a bad idea," he confesses, doubting he could face another round above deck. He frees himself from his safety line and makes his way to her cabin on uncertain legs, swearing the entire time.

"Now you sound like a sailor," she laughs. He glares at her, which causes her to laugh even louder. He grumbles under his breath and walks into the room she and Bethany share.

Before his mind can make sense of the disheveled room, he is immediately aware of magic being used and that there is pulling on the mana stored in his lyrium.

Everything that was not tied down is all but piled against the far wall and corner. But there is no sign of the mage or dwarf amongst the wreckage.

"Bethany," he carefully scans the room.

"Help," is the weak response. His green eyes snap to the corner where a pile of chairs and books are heaped in an unnatural way. She must have thrown up a magical barrier. He bolts into action, throwing books and furniture aside in a desperate attempt to reach her. With the debris overhead cleared, Bethany lowers her shield, her muscles quivering and her skin pale and sweaty from her exertions. Beside her in an unconscious heap is Varric, blood still seeping from his head wound and between them, buried in the wall is one of Bianca's bolts.

"Bethany!" He works almost frantically to clear away the rest of the rubble. He reaches out to help free her but she refuses, insisting he help Varric first. Her words are slurred and she struggles to remain awake. Fenris pulls Varric from the rubble and gives the dwarf a healing potion before turning his attention back to the dark haired mage. He can feel the increased draw on the mana stored in his skin and his lyrium begins to glow.

He pulls her free, but she is unconscious. He sits on the floor and pulls her into his lap as he calls out her and gently shakes her in hopes of waking her. She makes some muttered responses, but doesn't open her eyes.

"Bethany, do you have any lyrium," he has to repeat his questions a few more times and shake her again, before she mumbles something about her pouch. He's vaguely aware of Varric coming around as he rummages through one of the several pouches encircling her hips.

"Elf," he's groggy and dazed as he gently touches his head. His fingers come away bloodied, then suddenly the last few seconds come crashing into his brain. He remembers the misfire and Bethany screaming.

"Sunshine!" he scurries over, fearing the worse.

"She needs lyrium," Fenris explains as he moves to check another pouch. Varric is relieved that she isn't wounded. "She has overexerted herself when she cast her spell in such a weakened state. She'll be fine, but she needs mana and sleep."

"Thank the Maker," the dwarf sighs.

"I thought you worshipped your ancestors," the white haired warrior helps Bethany sip the glowing blue liquid.

"Why limit my options."

"Isabela says we're in the eye of the storm and that the second half may be as bad as the first half." Fenris carries Bethany to Isabela's bed. He lays the mage down and removes her boots before tucking her under the blankets. He secures the blankets between the mattress and the frame to help keep her in place should the storm be as bad as Isabela thinks.

"We should probably get some of this stuff tied down," Varric grabs one of the chairs.

"With what?"

"With twine, of course," he pulls the ball of twine from a pouch and ties the chair to the leg of the table. "Before she left Kirkwall, Daisy gave me a farewell gift."

Fenris keeps his opinion of the blood mage to himself as he follows Varric's example.

..~~*~~..

It's difficult for Varric and Fenris to tell if the second half of the storm was indeed as bad as the first half or if they were just better prepared. Varric sits and plays Diamond Back with a very nauseous Fenris while Bethany sleeps. Exhausted and soaked to the bone, Isabela walks in.

"How long has she been out?" Isabela leans against the bed and pulls off her drenched boots.

"Since the eye of the storm." Varric discards three cards and draws an equal number from the deck.

The dark skinned captain slips behind a changing screen to peel off her soaked clothing in favor of dry ones.

"How much longer until we reach Cumberland," the elf asks placing his cards face up on the table. Varric triumphantly displays his cards and claims the small pot.

"Another week," comes the answer from behind the screen. Fenris groans and declares he's going on deck. His legs wobble and his balance is at the mercy of the tide as the ship moves.

"That tea Bethany makes for him must be wearing off," the dwarf comments when the door closes behind the white haired warrior.

"The fresh air will do him good," she emerges dressed in little more than a dry tunic with a blue sash. "So when are you going to tell me about Bianca?" She grabs a bottle of rum and joins him at the desk.

"Now, Rivaini you know I can't," he accepts the mug of rum she offers.

"I'm not asking for her story, I'm asking about her. There must've been something about her that enraptured you."

"Her generous physique," he answers into his cup.

"I'm sure it took more than tits and ass to win your heart."

"That can be said about most men."

"How did you two part ways," she refills her tankard and sets the bottle between them.

"Well that's easy. She left Kirkwall and I didn't."

"Why didn't you follow her?"

"Circumstances," he swirls the liquid in his cup

"What circumstances?"

"Interfering ones." His usual jovial, sarcastic tone changes, but Isabela either misses the subtlety or chooses to ignore it.

"Still not going to talk about her?"

"What made you think I was going to?"

"Probably the fact that we are on our way to help her," she drinks more rum. "And you've been avoiding me since we set sail."

"I haven't been avoiding you. I've been observing you. I've never seen this side of you. I keep waiting for you to pounce on one of these hard bodied men."

"I never have affairs with my crew," she takes a healthy swig of rum. Varric feels relief and pride that he manages to change the subject. "Once they see you naked with your ass in the air they think they don't have to take orders from you."

"Now this sounds like a story I have to hear," he tops off her mug. She immediately launches into her tale.

..~~*~~..

For the first time since the ship left Kirkwall, Fenris is happy. He's just received news that they will be in Cumberland before noon. He sips the herbal tea Bethany made for him and stares at the small sliver of land on the horizon. He looks over his shoulder and catches a glimpse of Varric also staring at the landmass ahead. The blonde storyteller appears to be lost in his own thought. The elf catches movement in the corner of his eye and sees Bethany emerge from the Captain's quarters with a shawl about her shoulders. She closes her eyes and enjoys the brisk wind through her hair. The warm golden glow of the rising sun kisses her face. She smiles faintly and it takes his breath away. He finds a peace in her solace and simple joy. Fenris feels an urge to go to her and talk to her, but then the thought strikes him that she deserves someone better. After all she is the baby sister and last family member to the Viscountess of Kirkwall, and he's merely an escaped elven slave. His emotions are tangled and he's rooted to the spot as he watches her take a deep breath. She tightens her grip on the shawl before making her way towards Varric. He finishes his tea and quietly slips below deck.

"Thinking about Bianca," she keeps her brown eyes on the horizon.

"Kinda hard not to Sunshine."

"Getting her letter must have brought back all those feelings you had for her. Reminded you how much you cared for her?" Her question is friendly, innocent and noninvasive.

"I never stopped caring for her."

"Worried about the reception we're going to receive?"

"That I will admit; our parting was," he searching for a single word to describe the life changing incident so many years ago. "Complicated."

"Don't worry Varric; I'm sure everything will be fine."

"I hope so, Sunshine." He chuckles. "You know this reminds me of a story."

"Oh," her interest piqued. "I hope it has a happy ending."

"For you, madam, endless sunsets and roses."

..~~*~~..

The docks of Cumberland are like the docks of any other city; bustling with activity, crowded and full of sailors, prostitutes and shady characters. Sailing doesn't bother Varric, but he's glad to be on land again. He glances back at his companions. Bethany and Fenris are gathering everyone's belongings, while Isabela gives the new captain a report of the ship and her crew.

He begins scanning the crowd for his contact. Nico said one of his people would meet him on the dock, a dark haired elven prostitute calling herself Rose. Varric should recognize her by the small facial scar and the rose tattoo on her left breast.

"Hey there handsome, looking for a friend," a woman asks. He turns and sees a raven haired elf with deep green eyes leaning against a stack of crates. He can clearly see the small scar on her upper lips. Her clothes are of a poor quality, but clean. The long green skirt it pulled up on the right side to reveal her knee high black and yellow striped sock, and ankle boots. When she moves there is a flash of her thigh. Her top is a simple off the shoulder white shirt common to this area of Thedas; the long sleeves are bound with ribbon from her wrist to her elbow. The left arm has a black ribbon while the right is using a red ribbon. The top of her shirt is loose and open, revealing an impressive amount of cleavage for an elf. About her waist, an under bust corset is securely fastened, crafted from a mediocre burgundy fabric that is beginning to wear in spots. She also has a simple brown belt with two small pouches on it. Without staring Varric catches a glimpse of the rose tattoo on her left breast.

"Maybe," he's cautious in his response.

"Name's Rose, for a few coppers I can be your guide. For a few silvers I can be your friend. Of course I do charge extra for groups," she's quick to add when Bethany, Fenris and Isabela walk up.

"I'm sure we can work something out," Varric smiles.

"Varric," Bethany whispers. "What are you doing?"

"Making friends," he shrugs. "Rose, we need a place to stay. Can you take us to a tavern?"

"A cheap tavern or a nice tavern?"

Isabela and Varric opt for cheap, while Bethany voices nice and Fenris, who doesn't care, says nothing. Realizing she's out voted she remains silent when the dwarf reiterates a cheap tavern. Varric pulls a few coppers out and hands them to the elf who quickly makes them disappear into one of her pouches.

"For how long?"

"No more than 2 nights," he answers, and even that seems like an impossibly long period of time. He wants to be on his way now, Bianca broke their 15 years of silence with a call for help and every instinct he has is screaming for him to run to her.

"Follow me then, I know a place. The beds are lumpy, blankets cost extra, the ale tastes like piss water, but the food is decent and no one asks questions."

"Sounds perfect," Varric says, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

The group follow her down the main street for a block before makes a left at the bakery and a right a few shops down. Tucked into this questionable back alley is small rundown wooden shack of a building. Above the door hangs a faded sign labeling the hovel as the Black Cat Tavern. The door swings open on rust hinges and Rose leads them into the smoky dimly lit building. The Black Cat is larger than it seems, the front room is full of people drinking, laughing, arguing, playing various games of chance and eating. The building is filled with the smells of roasting meat and freshly baked bread, which is surprise to Bethany who's use to the less pleasing aromas of the Hanged Man. No one looks up when they enter.

"That's Semaj," she points to the mousy haired elf behind the bar. "Talk to him for a room and I'll follow you in few."

Following her instructions they talk to the elf, who is stand-offish until he hears they want a room for two nights.

"Ain't got one room big enough for the lot of ya. How's about two rooms?"

"Fine," Varric fishes about in his coin purse for a few silver pieces.

"Need anything else? Blankets? Pillows," he glances over at Bethany "I can arrange for a hot bath if you'd like."

"I'll pay for that," she excitedly voices.

Varric soon puts his negotiation skills to work, haggling for a decent price on the rooms. With a rude phrase muttered under his breath, Semaj agrees and trades keys for coin. He tells the dark haired mage that once they're settled in to their rooms he can have her bath ready in a few hours.

"No need to rush. Shortly after nightfall will work." Semaj nods his head and watches as group head to the back of the tavern and down the hallway. The two rooms are at the end of the hall and directly across from each other. Fenris and Varric take the room on the right, while the women take the room on the left. It only takes only a very little time for the group to get settled in their rooms. Soon Bethany and Isabela make their way across the hall to meet up with Rose and the men in the other room.

"No one else has arrived from Kirkwall looking for you," Rose reports, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall opposite the door. "But we'll keep eyes and ears out to see if you've been followed. If you have been, can we can handle it.

"Followed," Bethany already feels lost.

"Thanks. We're also going need supplies."

"I can arrange that too. If you're traveling to Nevarra, going by horse is quicker than foot. There are a few merchants that will be heading that way, which will be the fastest or I could arrange horses for you, not as fast, but will allow you more anonymity."

"Merchant caravans are target for bandits," Fenris points out.

"But they make better time than travel by horse, and they can set up camp in any of the guard outposts that might be along the way." The warrior nods to Rose's experience.

"How are we going to pass as merchants?" Bethany asks.

"You don't have too. Merchants are always hiring help when they plan a long haul like that. Technically you'll be 'hired help'," she looks at Varric. "And the merchants I'll hook you up with have no ties to the Dwarven Merchant Guild."

"Finally some good news," he voices, as if waiting for the downside of things.

"But you have another problem."

"And that is?" Varric crosses his arms and leans against the door.

"Nevarra is close to Tevinter," she looks at the lyrium branded warrior. "There's still a bounty out."

The warrior grumbles a slew of curses in Arcanium and begins pacing the room.

"But Danarius is dead," Isabela points out.

"His heir isn't."

"Heir? Danarius had no children," Fenris struggles to keep his emotions in check.

"But he had a successor. From everything I learned the bounty was never rescinded. It's still active and valid, but I've not heard anything about this magister pursuing it. Just watch your back and lay low."

"Any information on Bianca," Isabela asks.

"I have nothing, but there is a contact in Nevarra who will. A blonde dwarven girl named Isana."

"How do we find her," Bethany questions.

"When you reach Nevarra go to the Red Rat Tavern, she'll find you."

"Rose, set us up with the first merchant leaving Cumberland," Varric requests.

"Done. Anything else," when no one speaks up she pushes away from the wall. "My boy Nevin will meet you in the morning with your supplies and travel arrangements."


	8. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything, Dragon Age is not mine. The characters, game content and materials in the following story are copyrighted to BioWare. Neither I, nor this story, are endorsed by or affiliated with BioWare, or its licensors or subsidiaries. I do not receive any monetary compensation from the publication of this narrative. All Rights Reserved.

*.._.._._..._._.._..~~~**~~~.._.._._..._._.._..*

**Chapter 8**

"Oh hey, nature. I've heard about this. Thought it was just a rumor."

~*…..…...~~~**~~~..…..…..*~

With each step they take closer to Nevarra Varric's anticipation grows. Little slivers of doubt that slipped into his consciousness back on the ship continue to grow. He tries to ignore that sense of foreboding by entertaining the group with stories; however, even he can run out of tales. Six days outside of Cumberland the storyteller has run out of words and he's left with only this thoughts as company. And right now his thoughts make for lousy companionship. He finds himself hoping for a bandit attack, or an ambush, heck even food poisoning would save him from the uncertainties dancing in his head.

As they set up camp near the guard's post he tries to figure out what type of trouble she could be in. What dangers was she facing that she would risk being found by the Carta? And would he be able to help her?

As he eats his dried meats and rations he starts wondering about what Bianca has been doing since they parted. Has she met someone new? Does she have a family? Does she still love him? He then wonders if he can let her go if there is someone else in her life. And after hours of soul searching he still doesn't know if he can let her go again.

He looks up and watches Isabela and Bethany practice. She only had a year of practice under her belt, and she's struggling to hold her own against a pirate. Bethany swings wide, and Isabela easily dodges and sweeps the mage off her feet. She's quick to recover, and tries to continue her attack. The Rivaini feigns to be off balance and Bethany seizes what she thinks is an opening. Isabela quickly grabs Bethany's slender wrist and disarms her, then she spins and knocks the other weapon from the mage's hand. Exhausted, Bethany collapses to her knees.

"You cheated," she accuses.

"Sweetness, when you're fighting for survival, there are no rules. Also, you're over extending yourself which makes it easy for your opponent to throw you off balance." She offers her hands to help her friend to her feet.

"Want to go another round," Isabela watches her retrieve her weapons.

"No."

"Doesn't matter," she regains her fighting stance. "Come at me."

Bethany groans, rolls her eyes and begins the next round.

"She has more skill than I thought," Fenris sits next the dwarf and offers him a tankard of ale.

"Well, she had an accomplished teacher," he sips the beverage and the two men watch the training.

"Isabela says you and Bianca did not part of good terms."

"I imagine Isabela says a lot of things, listen at your own peril."

"Is it possible that we are walking into a trap?"

"It's always a possibility, but in this case I doubt it," Varric sips the ale, his gaze shifting from the elf to the women fighting.

"Why are you so certain?"

"I've got my reasons. So when are you going to tell Bethany how you feel about her?" Varric's subject change is not as subtle as he would like, but his mind is elsewhere.

"There's nothing to tell," Fenris swirls the liquid in his tankard.

"Everytime she's not looking you stare her with those sad puppy eyes."

"There are no puppy eyes," Fenris does not sound amused.

"Women won't wait forever. If you don't talk to her you'll lose her. And take it from me, that's a loss that will haunt you for the rest of your days." Varric's mind drifts back to memories of his beloved Bianca and their tragic parting.

"Speaking from experience," there's no humor in Fenris' voice.

Varric doesn't respond.

..~~*~~..

Travel along the Imperial highway is long and boring. The ground is hard, the food is terrible, the ale is flat, but they are making good time. The further they travel from Cumberland the fewer houses they see, eventually the random cottages change to large stretches of farmland with the occasional farmhouse and barn dotting the landscape. Fields of grain, waiting to be harvested, move in the breeze like rippling water. The air is pleasantly warm and filled with the scent of ripe apples waiting to be plucked and sent to market.

Bethany allows her mind to wonder back to her happy days in Lothering. The friends she made, the dreams she had and good times she and her family enjoyed parade through her mind. Bethany smiles softly to herself as she fondly recalls the harvest festivals, Summerday dances and the huge First Day celebration the Koehlers would hold in their barn. It was the only time Mother would make her chocolate and dried cherry cookies, of which about half would make it to the Koehlers' party. Life was simpler back then, and they were all happy. Suddenly the memory of a young and brave suitor fills her head.

"What's so funny Sunshine?"

"I was just remembering my first kiss; well it was almost my first kiss."

"You've never been kissed?"

"Would you kiss me if you had to face my sister? And Carver was just as protective, only not as intimidating."

"I'm sure there's someone who would risk the wrath of Hawke to kiss you."

"I certainly hope so!" She giggles and launches into her story about Marcus wanting to kiss her and how Marian and Carver were having none of it.

The road is busy, and they frequently pass travelers heading the other way. They spot merchants, taxmen, farmers bringing their goods to market, elven laborers in search of work, guards and many more. Given the activity of the road, the daytime is safe; it's at night when the bandits strike. When they aren't camping at outposts, they're sleeping under the stars, each taking a turn a watch.

Grey rain clouds gather overhead and get darker as they gradually leave vast stretches of countryside and enter the scattered houses of urban life outside of Nevarra. A cold drizzle settles over the group, and continues to cover everything in a fine shimmering sheen throughout the night.

When the sun rises the drizzle has thicken to the point that it could almost be called fog. Fenris, who had last watch, shivers. He mumbles a few curses under his breath and looks at the canvas tents erected about him. He thought about waking his friends, but soon abandons that idea when he hears Varric moving about in his tent. The dwarf emerges from his shelter with a yawn and a stretch.

"Morning, Elf, anything exciting to report?"

"We've made this entire trip and Isabela hasn't shared her bed with anyone. It must be the pants."

"I meant in the night," Varric can't help but laugh.

"A few travelers passed by heading the opposite direction, a group of dwarven merchants passed ahead of us, but nothing else worth mentioning."

"I've been listening to the merchants talk and we should reach Nevarra in the next day or two."

"Good, I'm getting tired of rations and sleeping on the ground."

"I dunno; think this outdoor thing is growing on me. Like a tumor."

"Let's wake the girls and get moving. The sooner we get to Nevarra, the better," Fenris chuckles.

..~~*~~..

As they neared Nevarra City the sun finally peeks through the grey clouds and they can see hints of bright blue sky. Further down the road they are flanked by row after tightly packed row structures. The smallest are barely 3 feet tall by 5 feet wide and 6 feet long and made from a gleaming white stone. Hundreds of other buildings that look like houses others are just as tall, but look to be little more than a door ways or entry areas. Some are made from stone, while others are drafted out of rare and expensive wood. There are five massive building, two on the left side and three on the left. The largest structures are easily three stories, made from high quality, imported stone. Detailed carvings and life like statues cover these structures. Everything is well maintained and quiet. Around everything is a massive stone and iron fence.

"By the Maker," Bethany gasps. "What is this?" Bethany finds the stillness to be unnerving.

"A necropolis," Fenris answers. "The Nevarrans don't burn their dead; they mummify them and place them in these elaborate tombs."

"How bizarre," Bethany comments, her eyes drawn to one of the more elaborate middle sized structures.

"Have you ever been to Nevarra City," Isabela asks.

"No, Danarius once had a visitor from Nevarra. I listened as she attempted to impress him with tales of the necropolis and the design of her own tomb."

The city itself is massive with huge statues of various men and women littering the streets. Each statue is in a different heroic pose, some are on the verge of delivering a death blow to some monstrous creature, darkspawn or person. Every available surface is painted with stylized images of local flora and fauna. Elaborate knot work is carved into the wooden doors and painted in bright colors. Banners of every color hang from banisters and patio railings and flap gently in the breeze. The air is filled with the sounds of people talking, merchants hawking their wares and children laughing and playing. The tantalizing scent of freshly baked bread and seasoned meat fill the market area. In the distance the faint sounds of music and singing can be heard, and while it's too far away to make out the words, they can tell it's not the Chant of Light.

"Maker's breath," Bethany's eyes are wide as she takes in the site of the city.

"No kidding," Isabela says.

"Come on the sooner we get this escort over the sooner we can get to the Red Rat," Varric's emotions are conflicted. After fifteen years of separation, he's eager to get to Bianca, but he's worried about the reception waiting for him.

..~~*~~..

The Red Rat is just what Varric expected, a tired pub in the poorer section of town which smells of urine, stale ale and a hint of blood. Over the door hangs a faded wooden banner in the shape of a rat with a tankard. The carvings on the door are poorly done and worn almost to the point of non-existent. Everything about this place screams old and decrepit.

"Just like the Hanged Man," Bethany comments.

"Better make sure the beernuts aren't moving before we eat them." Varric swings the door open and is surprised that the hinges don't squeak. Only a few disinterested eyes look up as the group enters.

The inside of the Red Rat is not only well lit, but surprisingly clean. The floor is made of worn wood, but not a speck of dirt can be seen. The tables and chairs also tell the same story of age and use, but look to be in good repair. A long bar takes up much of the far left wall, and at least two bartenders can be seen. One is filling an order while another is wiping down the counter top with a stained rag. Colorful banners hang from the railing of the second floor; they too are ancient and fraying along the edges. What surprises the group the most is not the large wooden chandelier hanging in the middle of the main room, but the fact that glowstones is being used in place of candles.

"Those are glowstones. I've never seen them outside of the Circle," Bethany whispers.

The bar is full is patrons who are laughing, talking, singing, arguing and playing games of chance. Three women and two men, presumably prostitutes, move about from table to table to socialize and ply their skills. Servers hurry about the tavern, their trays full of drinks as they rush to fill customers' orders.

"I'll grab that table in the back. It seems to have a good view of the room," Isabela states. She weaves through the crowd toward her goal.

"I'm going to talk to the barkeep," Varric heads towards the bar.

Bethany and Fenris follow the pirate, but Bethany does not have their skill at dodging people and accidentally bumps into a tall, dark haired man. She immediately apologizes and tries to continue her journey to the table. A charming smile spreads across his face as he blocks Bethany's path.

"Hello gorgeous, mind if I keep you company?" he asks.

"Um, no thank you. I'm fine," she tries to walk around him, but he casually side steps into her path again.

"Now, now, don't be shy. Where are you from" he chuckles and places a hand on her shoulder.

"Uh, Kirkwall," she politely removes his hand from her shoulder, only to have him begin playing with her dark curls. Again she pushes his hand away.

"Why would a pretty thing like you come all the way to Nevarra City?"

"I'm here to visit a friend. If you'll excuse me," she manages to walk past him, but he hooks an arm about her waist and begins guiding her to a quiet corner. A twinge of panic begins to bubble in her. The man continues to smile and make small talk, but each time she tries to slip away he's just as quick to grab her. She doesn't want to use magic and she doubts she can draw her weapon without hurting someone by mistake. She's about to kick him in the shins when Fenris appears.

"She said no," he growls, the look in his green eyes is dangerous and feral. The man huffs and wonders off to another table to speak with a petite elven woman.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine he was just…persistent," she pushes a stray curl back behind her ear. She rolls her dark eyes up to hit him with the full force of her gaze and his heart skips a beat. "Thank you Fenris."

"We…uh, we should…join the others," he stammers.

"Making friends with the local prostitutes, Sweetness," Isabela teases. Bethany flusters and tries to deny and argue, which only causes the pirate to laugh.

"So now what do we do," Isabela waves over a server.

"Now we wait. Rose said Isana would find us."

..~~*~~..

They wait for almost an hour before a young, blonde dwarven teenage girl walks in. She wearing light leather armor and has matching blades on her back. Her blonde hair is cut at an angle with the back short, barely reaching the nape of her neck, and the front brushing against her collar bone. She casually surveys the bar before heading towards Varric and his group.

"Isana, I presume." Varric rises to his feet. If this turns into a battle, standing will make it easier for him to draw Bianca from her sheath.

"That should make you Varric Tethras, if you have the coin," her eyes are cautious.

After a second he pulls the boon-coin from the inner pocket of his coat and shows it to her. When prompted he shows her the carved initials on the back. Suddenly her face lights up and she runs towards Varric, wrapping her arms about his waist in rib bruising hug.

"I knew you'd come," she says in joyous relief while holding him tightly. Still smiling she rests her cheek against his chest. Uncertain of what to do, Varric holds his arms out, shock evident on his face as he looks to his friends for guidance. After a moment of hesitation he awkwardly pats her on the back.

"Wow. Thugs sure are friendly here," Bethany teases.

"Uh, kid…?"

She looks up at him with a smile of pure delight, while her blue eyes sparkle with relief. Varric's right hand shakes slightly as he moves her blonde hair away from her face granting him an unobstructed view of her eyes. He finds himself staring into fire blue eyes he thought he'd lost forever. Bianca's eyes.

"You're…you're Bianca's…daughter."

Something crosses over her face and she backs away from Varric.

"Yeah, I'm Bianca's daughter," there's disappointment in her voice and her eyes become guarded. Varric hides his heartache at the realization that Bianca has fallen in love with someone else. He buries his pain, after all it's been fifteen years and neither expected to see the other again, was it really fair of him to expect her not to have moved on?

"So where's Bianca," Varric voice betrays none of anguish as all of his doubts come crashing into his reality.

"Two weeks ago some bastards busted down our door and dragged her from our home," she hooks one of the longer strands behind her ear.

"Who took her," Bethany asks.

"Mercs hired by Zinaga."

"Who," Isabela finishes her drink.

"An elf with an over-inflated sense of importance. Look, we shouldn't talk here. Follow me."

She stands up and leads them out of the tavern and deeper into town. She passes through an arched doorway and heads down a steep and long flight of stairs. Along the walls shallow nooks have been cut out and in each alcove sits a lantern or candle, the dim light weakly pushes back the darkness. At the end of the stairwell is what seems to be a solid wall. Isana touches two spots on the wall and then, using her weight, pushes open a heavy door. The sound of stone sliding against stone reverberates in the hallway. The light that pours in is almost blinding, causing half of the group to shield their eyes.

"Welcome to the Undercity," Isana says, leading the way into the huge underground cavern.

"Great ancestors," Varric stares wide-eyed at his surroundings.

Before them is little town seemingly inside a massive cavern. Hundreds of houses, in various state of disrepair, line narrow streets. Each house has a small flower box on either side of the door. Most of the planters are empty or have dead vegetation, but a few actually have healthy looking plants. In the ceiling of the cave, several hundred feet above the town is a large crystal glowing brightly shedding light on the buildings below. The sounds of people talking, fighting and laughing fill the air.

"That's a Sunstone. Dwarves haven't used those in at least three ages." The large crystal gives Varric an idea of the age of the buildings.

"Is this the deep Roads," Bethany asks when eyes become accustomed to the light.

"No, the Casian family built this necropolis for the family and servants. But when the family line died out and the coin dried up it started falling apart. Then about fifty years ago it was repurposed."

"Repurposed by whom," Isabela asks.

"Don't know it was before my time. Come on, it's this way."

"So you've lived down here, your whole life," Bethany asks.

"No, when they took Mom I didn't think it would be safe to go back home, we have a lot of friends down here, so it's the safest place for me to hide."

"Were you there when she was taken," Varric asks

"Yes. She told me to run, and that she'd be right behind me, but…" her words trail off.

"I'll get her back," Varric promises.

"I hope so."

She leads them to larger house and casually walks in and the instant they do they recognize the place as a brothel. It's cheaply decorated, but clean and at the moment business seems slow. A familiar dark haired man rushes over to Isana.

"I was starting to get worried darling." He hugs her and then addresses Bethany. "Hello gorgeous," he winks but doesn't move any closer.

"Back off, Rafino," Isana playfully slaps the man's chest. "I need to talk with them."

"I'm just playing, darling; you know I prefer short men. Here, this room is free and should suit your needs," he tosses her a key. "Honey-Bear will be here soon and we have some catching up to do."

"Thanks Rafi."

..~~*~~..

"Zinaga is third in command of the Thieves' Guild, but the way she acts you'd think she was running things. She's smart, cunning and dangerous."

"So why take your Mom," Isabela sits in a chair and props her feet up on the nearby table.

"I don't know. I can't figure that out."

"Tell us about Bianca. Is she a member of a rival guild or something," Bethany asks.

"No, she's part of the Thieves' Guild, and has been for as long as I can remember, but isn't a ranked member. She has no desire to hold a position of power within the Guild."

"Why," the pirate asks.

"Because the politics can kill you," Varric paces.

"Yeah, that's what she always said. But from what I found out Zinaga wasn't acting on behalf of the guild. She took my Mom for her own reasons, but I don't know what those reasons are."

"How do you know this wasn't done by the guild," Fenris leans against a wall and crosses his arms.

"Because they're looking for Mom too," Isana sighs. "Last week someone tried to take me. I've been in hiding ever since; my friends have been helping me gather information about Mom's disappearance. I can introduce you to them if you would like."

"What about your father? Will he be able to help," Bethany asks. Varric stops pacing to listen to the girl's answer.

Everything about her becomes unreadable. "He left before I was born. It's just Mom and me."

Varric feels a guilty relief that Bianca is not in a relationship. "I'm sorry," the mage apologizes.

"His loss," she shrugs.

"What makes you think she's still alive," Fenris finally voices the question many have thought since hearing about Bianca's disappearance.

"When they tried to grab me I heard one of them say that I could make her talk."

A red haired elven woman suddenly opens the door and walks in. All eyes turn to this new person and all are ready to attack if need be. Her gaze is drawn to Fenris, a look of recognition in her eyes. He has the feeling that he should know this woman, but cannot recall how.

"Triss! Don't you ever knock," the teen asks.

The woman cocks her head and knocks on the open door three times. "Happy?"

Isana makes a face which the woman ignores and approaches the group.

"Things are worse than you think. Bianca is being held in the Lacier Estate," her slight accent marking her as a former member of the Tevinter Imperium.

Isana curses, while Triss explains the difficulties to the rest of the group.

"The Laciers are a noble family with strong ties to the city guards, the Chantry and the Templars. They are also tightly connected with the Thieves Guild and the Crows. The only family more connected and powerful than them is the Pentaghasts."

"It also means that I can't go with you. Their guards know me."

"How," Isabela asks.

"No shit there I was," Isana begins only to be interrupted by Triss requesting the short version. The girl sighs. "I had a run in with a few of their guards last year…they still haven't gotten over it."

"You shouldn't go anyway, you don't know the layout of their estate, or where they might be holding you mother," Triss points out.

"And you do," Varric asks.

"Yes. I was their 'guest' for a couple of months until Bianca broke me out. I owe her. If you'll have me I can help. I know the layout of their manor and where their dungeon is."


	9. Chapter 9

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything, Dragon Age is not mine. The characters, game content and materials in the following story are copyrighted to BioWare. Neither I, nor this story, are endorsed by or affiliated with BioWare, or its licensors or subsidiaries. I do not receive any monetary compensation from the publication of this narrative. All Rights Reserved.

*.._.._._..._._.._..~~~**~~~.._.._._..._._.._..*

**Chapter 9**

"Never fear, Varric is here!"

~*…..…...~~~**~~~..…..…..*~

The Lacier estate is a huge sprawling monstrosity with high walls and armed guards patrolling the perimeter. Complex magical runes, disguised as decorative carvings, line the top of the fence as well as the pavers on either side of the wall. Even if someone manages to get past the outer perimeter and its guards, more guards circulate about the open courtyard, and the courtyard itself is several yards of open space which offers very little cover before reaching the house proper. And the home has just as many guards and runes as the outer fence. This is a family that has enemies and knows it. Fortunately, Triss knows of another way into the house.

She leads them to an underground drainage system the city uses. She lifts the grate and jumps down into the darkness. Bethany follows, splashing as she lands in hip deep water. She quietly makes a disgusted sound and joins Triss on the narrow walkway. The arched ceiling is easily six feet at its apex, and lined in brick. In the center of the tunnel runs a deep trough of water about four feet across. On either side of the water is a two feet wide walkway which is just inches about the water line. Sunlight filters in through grates spaced several feet apart.

"Well, this is…fragrant," Isabela comments as she jumps down into the sewer lines with the rest of the party.

"Put on your big girl knickers and deal with it," Triss grumbles as she leads the way through the maze of tunnels. "This is the only area guards don't patrol, but there are still dangers."

"What kind of dangers," the mage asks.

"If we're lucky just rats."

"And if we're unlucky," Bethany isn't sure she wants the answer and it's evident in her voice.

"Centuries ago, some these tunnels were used the inter those who could not afford burial in the necropolis. As the city grew, more drain lines were needed. It was common for workers to accidentally uncover a small tomb holding dozens of corpses. They never resealed the crypts after all that's not what they were paid to do. Rumor has it that the dead walk down here."

"I'm kind of sorry I asked."

Shuffling footsteps in the distance stops all talking and movement. Weapons are quietly drawn as the steps continue to approach. In the distance they can make out a figure shambling towards them in the darkness. As it nears they can make out more detail. The figure is human in in terms of height, but emaciated. Tattered rags barely hang on the withered frame. The left arm appears to be missing and the right hangs limply as it continues hobbling.

Breaths are held as the creature pauses as if it's trying to decide which direction to go. It sways from side to side, its head lolls left and right as it shifts weight. After a few blood chilling moments, the creature turns around and heads deeper into the darkness. Once the footsteps fade into silence, people breathe again and continue their way.

"How many crypts were opened," Bethany quietly asks.

"Hundreds, plus there are the dead bodies that are dumped down here for various reasons."

"Oh," is the small sound she makes in response.

"Sunshine, you really need to stop asking questions you don't want the answer to."

Triss pauses and pulls a torch from her pack. "We turn here," her head indicates the dark passageway to her right. Even with the torch lit its flickering light does little to illuminate the corridor, but it does provide a small measure of comfort.

It feels like they walk for an hour, stopping occasionally for Triss to get her bearings and to listen for the dead roaming about. Finally they can see an alcove, faintly illuminated by light trickling in through a grate.

"There," Triss extinguishes the torch into the water, and returns it to her pack. She begins guiding them across the running water to the hallway leading to the recess. As they near their goal the faint sounds of pained groans, agonizing screams and sobbing can be heard. The red haired elf is quick to turn to the others and raising a finger to her lips. She pauses just shy of the vent and listens. When she's convinced that the coast is clear she whispers that she needs a boost up. Fenris steps forward and offers her his cupped hands.

"I'll need to stand on your shoulders to open the grate," her voice barely travels beyond the two of them. "Once I'm inside I'll find something for you to climb up on." Fenris nods and boosts her up. She grabs the grill, and hangs there until he can get beneath her. His strong hands firmly grip her calves and he silently signals that he's ready to support her weight. She pops the grate, careful to make as little noise as possible and then she slips into the room.

After a few moments and section of rope falls into the cavern, and Isabela is the first to climb up, followed by Fenris. Varric helps Bethany up, but the mage lacks the upper body strength to pull herself up. She struggles for a couple of feet before Fenris is able to grab her and help her out of the hole. Finally the dwarf climbs up and takes in his surroundings and immediately wonders if all nobles have a torture chamber in their basements.

This specific room looks to be a small store room for various tools and devices as well as several bags and barrels. There is one doorway leading out, and Isabela is carefully peering into the main room, keeping watch. She quickly pulls her head back and signals that two guards are approaching. As they get closer the group can hear the men talk.

"Maker's Breath, are all dwarfs this stubborn?"

"In my experience, yes," a gruff voice answers with a chuckle.

"I've got 10 silvers that say she'll break by the end of the week."

"I've got 20 that say she won't talk until we get that kid of hers."

"Deal. Why is she here anyway?"

"By not asking, I stay outside of those cells. Get it?"

"Yeah. Yeah I do," the younger voice sounds frightened.

Varric's grip on his crossbow tightens; at this moment he wants little more than kill these two. It an act of sheer willpower that he remains rooted to his spot. He knows if he rushes forward he risks not only his life, but also those of his friends and Bianca.

As the voices pass, Isabela carefully peers around the corner and signals that the coast is clear. Cautiously the group enters the main room with weapons drawn. They keep their movements slow and silent as they move from cell to cell. One of the inhabitants reaches through the bars and grabs Varric's coat pulling the dwarf close.

"Help me," the man says. "I'll do whatever you want, just please get me out of here."

"I'm looking for a female dwarf. Red hair, blue eyes, small tattoo on her right cheek. Tell me where she is, and I'll get you out."

"Yes, yes, yes. I know her. I know her. She's here," the battered man is excited at the prospect of escape, but is still careful to keep his voice low.

"Where," Varric's hushed voice betrays his impatience.

"Through there. Through there," he releases the dwarf and points to an archway leading into another room. Triss takes the lead and heads into the chosen room, her grip tightens on her bow, the arrow notched.

"No, no, no, no, no," the man's eyes are wild with desperation as he reaches again to grab for Varric, but the dwarf easily evades.

"Once I get her out, I'll free you."

"You promised," he hisses.

"It's ok," Bethany crouches down next to the man's cage. "I won't let them leave without you." She crouches down to assure the prisoner of her sincerity. She looks up and sees Isabela pressing her back to the wall, and carefully peeking out of the small window in the door. Fenris guards the opposite side of the door. The dark skinned woman angrily gestures for Bethany to stop talking. The mage follows the pirate's lead and unsheathes one of her swords. The dark haired mage gestures for the prisoner to remain silent.

"Varric," Triss hisses his name and gestures towards a small cage suspended over a shallow pit of glowing embers. The cage is just high enough that the heat won't kill the occupant, but it will make them extremely uncomfortable. Weak, pained groans are coming from the cage, but they can't make out the prisoner. Triss rushes over to the controls and maneuvers the cage safely on the ground. At the first sight of red hair Varric wastes no time in picking the lock and pulling the unconscious woman from the cage.

"Bianca," he gently runs a thumb over her casteless tattoo. "Please, open your eyes." She lays unresponsive in his arms. "Come on, Beautiful, please, don't leave me. Not now. Not like this." He gently shakes her.

Her eyes sluggishly open and focus on Varric. He smiles in relief, but relief soon turns to panic as she goes limp in his arms. Triss is quick to approach and places her fingers on the dwarven woman's neck; checking for a pulse.

"She's alive, but we need to get her out of here."

He gathers her in his arms, cradling her close to his chest as if holding her close would stay death's call. As he walks through the doorway, he makes a soft hiss, to get Isabela's and Fenris' attention before heading towards the grate.

"Isabela," Bethany whispers, refusing to leave the prisoner. "We promised."

The pirate rolls her eyes and groans, but relents without argument. It doesn't take her long to pick the lock and once she does she grabs the man by his tattered shirt and hauls him into the small store room. They slip down through the grate, pausing long enough to secure their exit behind them.

"Let me carry her," the man offers, holding his arms out to carry Bianca. Varric's eyes narrow.

"Look, there are nasty things down here and I don't have a weapon. My only hope of escape is to follow you and if I carry her then at least I'm helping, right? I won't be useless."

"If you drop her I will break your legs and leave you here to rot," Varric cannot argue the man's logic, and begrudgingly hands his lady over.

"Got it, dropping is bad. Lead the way."

"No, swooping is bad. Dropping her is worse."

As they make their way through tunnels, pausing long enough for Triss to light a torch. The group moves in silence through the darkness, everyone keeping an ear out for wandering dead. The only source of light in this part of the tunnels is the torch in Triss' hand and its flickering glow. After half an hour of trudging through the darkness a faint scraping sound is heard in a corridor to their left. Everyone stops and listens; again, beyond the dancing light of the torch the shuffling sounds of footsteps and the sound of something dragging are heard.

The noise gets closer and it's clearly hobbling footsteps and something metal dragging along the stone floor. The sound grows louder until two things stumble into the trembling light. The desiccated corpse scuffles up to the group as if drawn by the light. Triss stands her ground as the dead things approach. The taller of the two cadavers has a sword bound to its right arm, the rusty, chipped blade dragging on the ground behind as it shambles forward. Its left arm is bound to a small, metal and wooden buckler with several broken arrows protruding from it. Its ancient leather armor and helmet is battled scarred and most disturbing, has fresh blood splattered across it. The head flops from shoulder to shoulder as if the weight of the skull is too much for the emaciated neck. It moves forward, towards Triss, it pauses and turns its head toward the female elf. Hollow sockets seem to search the space before it and it shuffles towards the red head, she holds her breath. The corpse's face turns towards the flickering fire of the torch. It almost seems to study the flame as if it were trying to figure out what this flickering light was.

The second dead thing is unarmed, and judging from its attire was once a noblewoman. Tuffs of long, stringy grey hair clings to her scalp. Her ripped and threadbare gown barely hangs on her withered frame. It's impossible to know what color the fabric once was as it's covered with mud, plant matter, dried blood and other unidentifiable stains. She shuffles up to join the other, but instead of studying the torch she make a low, guttural hissing sound. The dead warrior turns its head towards her so quickly it nearly knocks the torch from the elf's hand. The female hisses again, its clawed hand now reaching towards the delicate flame. With no eyes they hunt by sound and even the slightest of sound will cause the dead to frenzy. Triss' lungs are burning with the need to inhale, but she knows that they will hear her if she does. She doesn't know how much longer she can hold her breath. Slowly the shriveled, clawed hand retreats before touching the flame. The warrior opens it mouth and shrieks loudly. Triss uses the sound to cover the sound of her taking a breath. Bethany gasps and covers her mouth to stifle her scream. The dead things instantly turn their attention to the dark haired mage and slowly close in.

Bethany keeps her hand over her mouth and tries not to make another sound, terror evident in her wide eyes. Fenris tightens his grip on his weapon and wants to charge, but Triss shakes her head. Engaging the dead is not wise, they feel no pain and will not stop until either you are dead or their body is completely destroyed. Fenris cocks his head and scowls at the red head, but he cannot deny that she is right. He grits his teeth and watches, helplessly, as the cadavers close in and study the trembling mage. Bethany squeezes her eyes shut and silently prays that they will leave.

A third corpse slowly begins to emerge in the light. With its left leg missing just below the knee it crawls forward. It raises its head and a dry raspy sound escapes its mouth. The two corpses near Bethany turn as if to acknowledge this new member. The crawler continues to move ahead. Its shriveled, clawed hands grasping at the ground before it as it drags its body along the ground. It moves until it grabs Triss' boot. Puzzled by the unfamiliar texture its hands begin to explore the area and soon finds her ankle. The red haired elf does her best to remain silent as the cadaver uses her leg to pull itself up, until it bites her leg and a small yelp escapes her lips.

All three dead things turn to attack Triss, but Fenris is quick to swing his two-handed sword catching the dead warrior in the midsection. The dead warrior stumbles back, regains its balance and quickly closes in on the white haired elf. Isabela quickly unsheathes her weapons and impales the female corpse, while Triss uses the torch to bludgeon the crawler. Varric takes careful aim and pins the dead warrior's feet to the ground. Bethany rushes up and kicks the crawler, dislodging it from Triss' leg. The man carrying Bianca stays back, behind Varric and keeps an eye out for other approaching enemies.

The dead noblewoman spins so quickly she rips one of Isabela's blade from her grasp. The pirate stumbles back, narrowly avoiding a swipe to her face. The dark skinned woman pulls a smaller knife from a hidden sheath in her corset and blocks a clawed hand coming towards her face.

The dead warrior struggles to free its feet from the floor as Fenris closes in to cleave his foe in twain. The dead warrior quickly uses its shield arm to block the incoming blow, and counters by swinging his sword arm at the elf. Fenris dodges and brings his sword around again the corpse successfully blocks the attack; however its shield shatters under the onslaught. It shifts its weight and causes the elf to stumble back. The cadaver growls viciously and slices at Fenris again, this time cutting the white haired warrior's left arm. He grits his teeth and channels his pain into anger, causing his lyrium to glow a bright blue.

Bethany quickly closes the distance and manages to stab the crawler in the head. The corpse continues to flail about until it grabs onto the blade and Bethany finds she must struggle to pull her weapon free. She quickly uses the second sword to cut off the corpse's hand which allows her to reclaim her sword. The dead thing claws at the mage with its one remaining hand until it grabs her ankle and manages to pull her off balance. Triss is quick to leap into action, and sets the creature on fire with her torch. Instead of releasing Bethany, as Triss had planned, its grip tightens as the flames engulf it.

Unable to get a clear shot at the crawler, Varric takes aim and lands three critical shots on the deceased noblewoman. The corpse wobbles then turns towards Varric with the intention of attacking him; however, Isabela drops her small knife and rips her sword free from the cadaver's back. The woman shrieks and resumes her attack on the pirate. The dark skinned woman easily dodges the clumsy attack and swings her weapon around, decapitating the corpse. The body stopped moving, as if startled by the attack. It stands there teetering and then expectantly she lunges forward, her decrepit and claw like hands blindly thrashing about hoping to hit something.

"Destroy the body, Rivaini!"

"That's what I'm trying to do," she snarls while ducking a swipe to her neck.

"Well, you're not doing a very good job." With another shot Varric pins the noblewoman's feet to the floor. Isabela, rather than snap at Varric, viciously slices at the corpse nearly cutting her in half. The dead woman's spine snaps and her upper torso falls to the ground. The pirate immediately turns her attention to help Triss free Bethany from the flaming corpse's grasp.

Varric takes aim and shoots Fenris' foe multiple times in the back. The cadaver twitches and jerks as if in some macabre dance as each bolt strikes. Fenris takes advantage of the distraction and cuts off the thing's arms in a quick, fluid motion. The corpse emits a gravely, furious roar and charges the elf. He throws his shoulder into the attack and knocks the dead warrior off its feet, the dwarf immediately showers in bolts, effectively pinning it to the ground and rendering it harmless.

Triss cries out as the crawler latches onto her arm with its teeth. Blood drips from her arm onto the ground, as Isabela quickly swings her knife around and severs the bottom jaw. Fenris rushes up and cuts off the cadaver's other hand. His lyrium glows brightly as he plunges a fist into the corpse's body and rips out the dead heart. Isabela brings her blades down on its head. It twitches once then stops moving.

"Andraste's flaming sword!" The man carrying Bianca stares at the elf with wide fear filled eyes. Triss on the other hand does not look surprised, a fact Varric comments on.

"Danarius had other slaves," she says, her eyes look to Fenris as if for permission to speak of his past.

"You know me," he asks. Triss looks at him, unable to believe the question. "I have no memories before the ritual," he finds himself confessing.

"Yes," her eyes are guarded. "I know you, but this is discussion for later. Like when we're out of a walking dead filled sewer."

"Let me bind your wound," Bethany offers. After a moment of hesitation Triss relents and allows the human to clean and bind the injury. She then turns her attention to Fenris. Her touch is gentle and causes his heart to race. She rolls her eyes up, and his breath catches in his throat.

"Thank you," he manages to say.

"Come on," Triss sighs. "Let's get out of here before more show up.

..~~*~~..

Once they reach the surface, the prisoner hands Bianca over to Varric and bolts down the first dark alley he can find.

"I'm going to get this looked at," Triss holds up her wounded arm. "I'll meet you later in the Undercity."

Varric carries Bianca the entire way back to the Undercity's brothel. The instant they walk in, Rafi rushes up to them and guides Varric to an unoccupied room in the back.

"Honey-Bear get Isana," he calls out while opening the door to the back room. Varric carefully lays her on the bed. Bethany pushes him aside to evaluate Bianca's injuries. Her wrists and ankles are bloodied and raw. Lacerations, bruises and burns cover her body. Her red hair is matted and caked with sweat and blood. Varric cannot recall anytime anyone looked this bad.

"You can heal her, right? Tell me you can heal her," he can't keep the frantic, worried tone from his voice.

"Mom," Isana runs into the room. "Mom," she exclaims, pushing Bethany out of the way to hold Bianca's hand. "Mom, please wake up."

Varric grabs Isana's arms and tries to pull her away from Bianca so Bethany can work her magic. The girl throws her elbow back and catches Varric in the gut; while he's still off balance she spins quickly and shoves him with all her might. The storyteller stumbles back into Isabela, who barely manages to remain on her feet. Varric recovers his balance, grabs the girl and pulls her away. She stumbles and is caught by Rafi before she hits the floor. She screams obscenities at Varric as she lunges at him with her dagger drawn. Rafino and a dwarf with light brown hair and honey eyes are quick to grab her and keep her from Varric. She dodges the human, but the dwarf easily catches her left arm. Isana brings her right arm around, the dagger flashing in the light.

"Honey-Bear!"

The dwarf doesn't even blink and captures her other hand. He then twists her, pressing her back to his chest and uses her arms to pin her.

"I was part of the warrior caste little girl. You can't out fight me."

"Orez, let me go," she shrieks.

"Everybody out!" Bethany raised voice stops all fighting. "If I'm going have any hope of healing her I can't have distractions. Out," she shouts, pointing at the open door.

"I'm staying," Fenris challenges, despite the look in Bethany's brown eyes. "You'll need mana and you can pull it from me."

"Fine," she looks at the rest of the group, almost challenging them to say something. Once the room is empty and the door closed, Bethany sinks to her knees beside the bed and evaluates Bianca's wounds.

"Her injuries look severe," Fenris points out.

"They are. Fenris," she looks up at him and the touch of doubt is in her eyes is breaks his heart. "I'm not Anders. I'm not even a healer; I just a mage who knows a couple of healing spells. I don't know if…"

"You are stronger than you give yourself credit for," he encourages. A shaky smile crosses her lips. She takes a deep breath and places her hands on Bianca.

"Maker give me strength," she prays and begins weaving her spell.

..~~*~~..

Isana has been pacing for the last two hours as she chews on her nails while she waits for Bethany to emerge from the room. Her intense blue eyes move between Varric and the door. Nagging questions dance with her anticipation and slowly begin to turn into anger.

Isabela leaves to go to the bar, pausing long enough to find out that Varric doesn't want anything. Varric sits at a small table and prays. He prays to his ancestors, the Maker, the Old Gods, anyone who might be listening and willing to throw in their divine assistance. He begins to wonder if they could've gotten to Bianca sooner. Could he have insisted the ship leave earlier? Did they really need to stay those extra nights in Cumberland? What if he encouraged the Merchants to travel longer between stops? He begins second guessing all of his decisions that lead him to this point as the 'what ifs' continue to parade through his head like a dark plague.

"Why didn't you get here sooner," Isana finally asks Varric as if she read his mind.

"I tried; maybe if I'd done things differently I could've been here sooner. I don't know…"

"Why did you leave her?"

"What," her anger catches him off guard.

"My mother, when she left Kirkwall, why didn't you go with her?"

"Circumstances you wouldn't understand."

"Oh, yeah? Try me," her anger continues to grow.

"Some stories are not meant to be shared, Precious."

"Don't call me Precious," she growls. "Did you ever love her?"

"I love her with everything I am," He's trying to remain calm. This is the daughter of the woman he loves more than his own life and he doesn't want to hurt her.

"Tell me how she got that scar on her chest if you love her so much," her tone is mocking and her eyes reveal that she knows the cause of the scar. She's deliberately pressing his buttons, and he's too on edge to realize it.

"Back off, Precious, you're treading on dangerous grounds." His eyes are serious and his words hold a warning tone. Her lips curl in a silent snarl at the hated nickname.

"You don't love her. You don't even care!" Her raised voice begins drawing some attention.

"Letting her go nearly destroyed me, but it was the only way to protect her." He slowly rises to his feet and locks eyes with the teenager. "You know nothing about what I sacrificed to keep her safe."

The volume escalates as their argument continues and the number of onlookers increase, but no one dares get too close. Isabela approaches the crowd and can barely see Varric and Isana on the verge of throwing punches. Everyone gasps when the young dwarf draws her dagger. The pirate pushes her through the mass of people. Ordinarily she's side with her friend, but this time she needs to stop him, she realizes that nothing good will come from this fight. She gets breaks through just as Varric frees Bianca from his back.

"Dance with me, Precious, I'll show you a thing or two."

Isana is quick to lunge at Varric, who uses the crossbow's bayonet to deflect her attack. Isabela draws her blades and manages to block Isana's next assault. She boots the young woman in the chest, throwing her off balance. While the dwarf regains her balance, the dark skinned woman spins and punches Varric in the temple with the pommel of her weapon. He stumbles back and bumps into a table, his head spins from the blow.

The young dwarf presses her attack, her rage now focuses on this new enemy, just as Isabela had planned. The pirate soon realizes that Isana is faster than she looks and knows how to use her height to her advantage, forcing her to change her fighting tactics. The pirate just barely misses a swipe to her midsection, but parries the next strike and uses her weight to throw the girl off balance. From the corner of her eye Isabela sees Varric recover and is quick to kick him in the chest, sending him into a chair with such force that he topples over.

Isabela is aware of two more people trying to force their way through the crowd as Isana crouches, preparing to lunge at the pirate.

"I'm right here," she taunts. "Hit me!"

As if on cue she leaps and Isabela barely manages to side step. The dark skinned woman doesn't strike when the opening presents itself, she doesn't want to hurt the girl, only wear her out. Suddenly Rafino and Orez break through and charge the fighting women. In a move of pure grace, the pirate sheaths her blades and dances away from Rafino to pounces on Varric, knocking him back to the floor and pinning him. Isana shouts obscenities and struggles for freedom. The amber eyed dwarf has his hands full with the teenager, and calls to Rafino for help.

"Andraste's tits Rivaini get off me," he struggles against her superior use of leverage.

"Do you really want to hurt Bianca's daughter," her voice is low and calm. Hearing his love's name seemed to have a calming effect on him.

"Maker's Breath I could've hurt her, killed her even."

"But because of me you didn't, so I think you owe me a pint."

"Ok, ok you win. Get off me," Varric orders, his voice calmer. She stands and offers her hand to help the dwarf get to his feet. They look over and see that Rafino and Orez are having the same amount of success calming Isana's rage. Her blue eyes glare at Varric, but she finally agrees not to attack anyone.

The door to Bianca's room opens and Fenris staggers out carrying an unconscious Bethany. He leans against the door frame and barely manages the two steps to exit the room. Bethany is pale and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. There are dark circles beneath Fenris' glassy eyes and he too looks pale and shaken, even his lyrium brands look dull and lifeless.

He struggles to take a third step, and ends up staggering back into the wall, laboring to keep his hold on Bethany.

"She…she lives," he breathlessly says and slides to the floor out cold, the rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was still alive.

Varric and Isana rush towards the room, only to be blocked by Orez, who used the recent fight as justification for his actions. "I'll let you in one at a time and for equal amounts of time."

"Go ahead…Isana. I'll wait," it killed him to say those words, but knowing Bianca is alive puts him at ease.

"Good, now that we have that sorted out. Rafi, get the human, I'll carry the elf, they can rest in our room."

..~~*~~..

The day gives way to night and Bianca still hasn't woken up, but Isana and Varric keep their vigil. It's nearing dawn and Fenris wakes to gentle warm pressure on his chest. When he opens his eyes he's startled to find himself in the same bed with Bethany. At some point in her slumber she curled up against him resting her head and arm on his chest, but what surprises him even more is the fact that his arms are wrapped protectively about her. It's almost terrifying how right it feels to have her in his arms. He finds the slow, rhythmic sounds of her breathing to be the most relaxing sound he's ever heard. This is the second time he's found her in his arms. Gently his fingers trace the round shape of her ear, and for a moment he believes that he can be happy. Then he starts wondering if he can truly trust a mage.

Slowly he gets out of the bed and quietly slips out the room, thoughts of the dark haired mage swimming in his head. He runs his hands through his white hair as he walks into the lobby. It isn't long until he finds Varric sitting at a table, staring at Bianca's room.

"How's Bethany," the dwarf asks, his eyes still locked on the room. Through the open door he can see Isana sitting next to her.

"She's fine. She should be up in a few hours. Bianca still out?"

"Yeah."

"She said Bianca would be out for a day or two. There will be some scars…"

"But she's alive," Varric interrupts.

"Bethany also suggested that when she wakes up that she spend another day in bed resting."

"Good to know."

"Where's Isana?"

"She's enjoying some alone time with her mother," Varric gestures towards Bianca's room.

"How are you doing?"

"No offense, Elf, but I'm not much in the mood for company right now."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to just sit here and think."

"Sounds like we both have a lot to think about."


	10. Chapter 10

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything, Dragon Age is not mine. The characters, game content and materials in the following story are copyrighted to BioWare. Neither I, nor this story, are endorsed by or affiliated with BioWare, or its licensors or subsidiaries. I do not receive any monetary compensation from the publication of this narrative. All Rights Reserved.

*.._.._._..._._.._..~~~**~~~.._.._._..._._.._..*

**Chapter 10**

"Come here and give Bianca a kiss!"

~*…..…...~~~**~~~..…..…..*~

When not at Bianca's bedside, Varric has been sitting at the table watching her and Isana through the open door. He's slept very little and has only picked at the food his friends brought him. He's been quiet and withdrawn dealing with an enemy he can neither charm nor shoot: doubt.

Finally Bianca stirs and wakes up. He watches Isana hug her mother and help her out of bed. She leans on Isana for a moment, gathering her balance and working some stiffness from her limbs, her back to the door. Her once waist-long, crimson hair is now mid-back in length. His hands clench at the memory of running those locks between his fingers.

Varric rises to his feet, and stands there as uncertainties continue to haunt him. He looks down at the crossbow sitting on the table. Unconsciously he strokes Bianca's stock, finding a whisper of courage in her quiet strength. He returns Bianca to her sheath on his back and takes a couple of deep breaths.

"This is it, Tethras, the moment of truth," he mutters to himself before beginning the longest walk of his life, the three yards to his lady's room.

..~~*~~..

Bianca quietly moans in her sleep, her grip on Isana's hand tightens.

"Mom," her voice is quiet and full of hope. Bianca groans again and opens her eyes; she smiles weakly at her daughters beaming face. Not waiting for to sit up, Isana throws herself on her mother hugging her with all her might.

"I was so worried," the girl cries, trying to blink away her tears.

"It's ok, baby. I'm fine," Bianca soothes, stroking the child's hair. "Help me up. I feel stiff."

"Yeah, the healer said that would happen," she detangles herself from Bianca and helps her get out of bed. Standing on uncertain legs, the red head looks at the scars circling her wrists. "The healer also said there would be some scarring. She's…she's not really a healer, but she knows some healing spells."

Bianca sighs sadly, and then stretches. "At least I'm still alive. It's good you got me out of there when you did. For a moment there I thought I saw Varric."

"You know," Isana chuckles nervously. "It's funny you should mention that."

"Hello, Beautiful," Varric greets from the door. Bianca straightens as if a shot of lightening went through her spine. She's afraid to turn around only to find that her mind is playing a cruel and painful trick on her. Slowly she turns her head a quarter of the way, but not enough to where she can see over her shoulder. Bianca takes a breath, and musters her nerve before turns quickly. Disbelief dances in her eyes as she brings her hands to her mouth in an attempt to hide her surprise.

"Varric," she reaches out and takes a shaky step towards him.

"This is real," he says to assure her as much as himself. "I'm here."

"Varric!" she rushes to him, wrapping her arms tightly about his neck. He buries his face in the crook of her neck and holds her tightly. They cling to each other as if the other would disappear if they let go. "Oh, Varric," she cries into his neck.

Despite all the things he thought about telling her and everything he's ever wanted to say to her "I'm here," are the only words the silver tongued storyteller can find to say. He's barely aware of his friends moving in behind him, eager to see this reunion.

"My love," those whispered words falling from her lips banish every doubt he'd been battling since he received her letter. Tears escape his tightly closed eyes and he nuzzles her neck, breathing in her sweet forgotten scent. "I've been so lonely without you."

"I've missed you too," he holds her a little tighter. "Ancestors how I've missed you," suddenly he sweeps her up in his arms.

"What are you doing," she gasps.

"I believe the healer said you needed to stay in bed today."

"But I…oh," she stops as she understands his expression. "Well, if that's what the healer says," she drapes her arms about his neck and gazes longingly into his brown eyes.

"Maker's breath man, I meant for her to rest," Bethany exclaims in exasperation from the doorway.

"Don't you worry your scrawny, little ass about it. I'll get some rest in a few hours." She never takes her eyes from Varric.

"Scrawny," Bethany isn't sure if she should be offended or not.

"Only a few hours," Varric begins carrying her back to the bed.

"I figured life as a merchant would have made you soft," she teases.

"With you in my arms, Beautiful, nothing stays soft for long." He can hear the bedroom door close, but is so enraptured with the blue eyed woman in his arms that doesn't know nor does he care if they're alone.

"I like the way you think merchant," she purrs, frees his hair from the ponytail and runs her fingers through his shoulder length golden mane.

"Dirty minds think alike, thief." He lays her on the bed and turns away long enough to set his beloved crossbow on the small nightstand. When he returns his attention to his lady she's on her knees on the bed. She grabs his coat and pulls his lips to hers. His sounds of surprise are muffled by her mouth as she pushes his coat off his shoulders and onto the floor. The instant his arms are free of the fabric he cups her face and returns her ravenous kisses. With lips still locked he pulls off his gloves and tosses them aside while she feverishly unties his sash and lets it join his coat on the floor.

Their lips part long enough for Bianca to pull her sleeping tunic off over her head. She grabs Varric by the shirt, pulls him towards her and they tumble back onto the bed. His left arm keeps him propped up while his right hand becomes reacquainted with the smooth plains of her abdomen. When his fingers brush against a scar on her chest he pulls his lips from hers, a somber and sorrowful expression on his face.

"I'm so sorry Beautiful," he whispers, unable to take his eyes from the wound he gave her all those years ago. She places her hand on his, and presses his palm flat over the scar. He can feel her racing heartbeat.

"Varric," her voice is soft and soothing; he pulls his eyes away from their hands and gazes into her fire blue eyes. "When I woke up I knew you still loved me and that you believed I wasn't the spy they were looking for. You saved my life, no one else in that room would have missed." She brushes his hair back behind his ear. "You bought my freedom with your own by remaining trapped in Kirkwall to a guild that abused you and a family that didn't appreciate you. This scar is the one thing I have of you that no one can take from me." She cups her hand behind his neck and pulls him down for a long, passionate, soul healing kiss.

..~~*~~..

"Are you alright, Sweetness," Isabela refers to Bethany's pale complexion and sunken eyes.

"I still feel wore out."

"Why not get a room and sleep some more," the pirate finishes for ale and contemplates getting another.

"We aren't a tavern you know," Rafino's grumpy voice carries across the lobby. "We do _use_ those rooms."

"And business is booming I see," Isabela refers to the near empty establishment.

"Coin is coin, right," Bethany interjects, trying to keep the peace. "I'll pay for a room." She heads towards Rafino who is behind the bar manning the books.

"Well, we usually charge seventy-five silvers for a premium service," he begins.

"Here're two sovereigns," she places the gold coins on the counter and waits patiently for a key.

"Here you go gorgeous, it's the third room on the left upstairs. It even has a washroom en suite."

"Thank you," she stifles a yawn and heads up to the room.

"Hmmm," Isabela looks about the room and at the group of prostitutes hovering in the corner. "Maybe I'll get one of my own."

"You'll be happier with one of the dwarves," Isana offers. "Or so I've heard," she quickly adds.

Isabela laughs and saunters over to have her pick. Fenris makes a disgusted noise before turning his eyes to the door Bethany disappeared into.

After a moment of silence, Isana speaks. "I don't need a babysitter," she keeps her attention on the book she's writing in.

"What?"

"I'm a big girl. If you want to go…go," she continues to write. After several moments of contemplation Fenris follows Bethany path up the stairs.

Once she's alone, Isana flips to the back of her journal and pulls out a folded sheet of yellowed parchment which has been carefully concealed beneath the endpaper. She runs her fingers over the ancient dwarven runes warning travelers about the perils ahead. She doesn't unfold the paper for she knows what it is, instead she flips it over in her hands and wonders what is so important about this map that her mother was willing to die rather than give it up. She sighs and hides the map back in her journal.

..~~*~~..

Bethany fills the tub with warm water and strips down to her tunic and leggings. She stands in the room, brushing her tangled hair. She turns quickly when she hears her door open.

"Fenris," she gasps, dropping her brush.

"I have been thinking of you," he stalks towards her like a predator closing in on its prey. "I have been unable to think of little else," he's made his feelings known, and now he leaves the decision to her. "Command me to go and I shall." His heart is in his throat as he waits for her response.

"Please stay," she whispers, a bright blush racing across her cheeks. He pushes her back against the wall, claiming her lips with his. She returns his kisses with equal vigor, but far less skill. He grabs her soft, dark hair as he begins kissing her neck. She quietly moans his name, but doesn't touch him, something he soon realizes.

"Bethany?" He wonders if he moved too fast, was this not the relationship she sought.

"Can I touch you," she breathlessly asks. Confused by her question, he pulls back to look into her chocolate brown eyes and studies them, wondering where that question came from. Suddenly it dawns on him, he's always had an aversion to people touching him and she is so eager to please him that she will find ways to do it and keeping the physical contact to a minimum. His lips curl into a grin at her tender gesture.

"In all of Thedas, yours is the only touch I crave."

She suddenly throws her arms about his neck and kisses him like one of the characters in the books Isabela sent her. Fenris is caught off guard by her enthusiasm and nearly topples over under her affection. He barely makes it to the bed and falls onto his back with Bethany straddling him.

Being beneath a mage has never brought Fenris pleasure before, but with her it drives him wild with the need to touch her. When her tongue traces the shape of his ear, he growls with pleasure, and suddenly finds can't get undressed fast enough.

..~~*~~..

A few hours later, Varric wakes to find Bianca in his arms. He brushes a few stray strands of her red hair behind her ear and can feel her smile. Reluctantly her eyes open and gazes up at Varric.

"I was afraid this was all a dream. That I would open my eyes and you would be gone," she confesses, her fingers drawing random shapes in his chest hair.

"That's supposed to be my line," he chuckles.

She rests her head on his chest and spends a few moments listening to his heartbeat. He just holds her and savors the feeling of having her near again.

"Varric," she has a question that she needs to ask.

"Yes, Beautiful?"

"How did you find me?"

"I got your letter, asking for help," he's confused by her question and it's evident in his response.

"What letter, I didn't…" she makes a frustrated sound "Isana," she growls. "That girl has been forging my handwriting for at least a year." Suddenly her eyes widen. "Varric, is it safe to be together?"

"I have people watching. If I was followed, they will either get word to me or take care of it."

Contented with his answer she snuggles against him once more. She listens to the sounds of his heart beats for several moments, enjoying his closeness, until a question demands her attention. "Have…have you heard from Gerav," she asks, but isn't sure she wants the answer

He sighs heavily, it was the one question he knew would come up, but was hoping it wouldn't. Varric sits up and struggles to look his lover in the eyes.

"I'm…I'm sorry, but he's dead, and has been for years."

A heartbreaking gasps escapes her lips and her eyes begin to tear, but she manages to ask for the details. Varric runs his hands over his face, this isn't a tale he wants to tell her. Usually when he tells tales of the Champion of Kirkwall he plays up some of the details, and might even make some of it up, but with this story he always glossed over Gerav's death. Now as he spins his narrative he's very careful not to exaggerate, he just gives her facts about her brother, the group he fell in with and his demise. He does embellish how her brother seemed to fight his madness, and that Gerav didn't want to hurt Hawke or her friends, but the rest of the crazed Carta members were insisting. She wipes the tears from her face only to have new ones take their place as she listens to his words.

Once he's finished talking she takes in his words and catches one detail that was not shared. "Who killed him," she sniffs.

"Beautiful," he doesn't want to answer that question.

"Who," she loudly presses. He can't look at her as he confesses he was the one to deliver the killing blow. Her sorrow turns to rage as she grabs the crossbow off of the nightstand. Varric struggles with her to keep the weapon pointed away from him.

"Bianca, there was no choice," he argues, still fighting for control over the crossbow.

"You killed my brother," she rebuts, tears still flowing down her face.

"He had Blight! There was nothing we could do," he's quick to grab the handle that activates the bayonet to keep her from stabbing him.

"He was my brother, my baby brother!"

"I know," he shouts back, which seems to stop her struggling. "And that's why I can do this." Her fury turns to panic as he aims the weapon at his chest, her finger still on the trigger.

"What are you doing?" He hates the fearful tone in her voice as he places the muzzle flush against the skin.

"I killed your brother. I almost killed you. You deserve your revenge," he lets go of his beloved crossbow, leaving his fate in in his lover's hands. If she pulls the trigger the bolt will go directly into his heart, killing him instantly. "And I will not stop you." He holds his arms out in a gesture of surrender.

She rests the butt against her body, her face hardens, and she stares into Varric's light brown eyes. He's at peace with his decision; he got to hold her one last time. Her hands tremble as she tries to cling to her anger, but her fury melts away at the knowledge that she can't kill him. Her shoulders slump as she confesses that she can't do it.

He gently removes the weapon from her hands and leans it against the nightstand before holding her close as she grieves the loss of her brother.

..~~*~~..

Fenris watches Bethany sleep, the peaceful look on her face and her small smile have a calming effect on him. He pulls on his gauntlets and picks up her red scarf from the floor. A devilish grin spreads across his lips as he ties the favor around his left gauntlet. His grin soon fades as he begins to wonder if he should have done this in the first place. Since the ritual he can only recall three he's willingly taken to his bed, and while she is not the most skilled of lover, she is the most thrilling.

He gazes at the lantern on the mantel, his mind drifting back to the sensation of her touch. He found it endearing that she tried to hold back her mana, prevent it from overwhelming him while she is in the throes of passion. He had to coax her into releasing the mana that was building. He'd experienced that surge before when he was a slave, and while it had always been a painful experience, with her it was warm and enveloping, as gentle as her soul. His markings glowed in response to her touch, sending a pleasant tingle through him. They'd never done that before and he cannot explain why they did it now. He closes his eyes and recalls how her magic called to his lyrium, and how his lyrium sang in response. Within the euphoria were all his memories of his past. Faces, names, relations, emotions all of it came flooding back only to fade before he could grasp them.

"Fenris?"

He turns to see Bethany sitting on the bed, her knees drawn up to the chest. She reminds him of a frightened child.

"Is everything alright," her brown eyes plead that that he says yes.

"There was a moment when all the memories I lost came back," he confesses

"You mean from your life before…the ritual?"

"Yes, but they're gone now and I don't know if I can get them back," he sits on the edge of the bed and keeps his eyes on the floor. She makes no move to touch him. "It scares me," he confesses. He despises this weakness and doesn't know if he the courage to face it or her.

"Does this mean," she takes a breath, she has to ask this question. "Does this mean you're leaving?"

His green eyes lock on her face. She's terrified to lose him and it's evident in her eyes. This unknown frightens him, but he's so tired of running…of being alone. He crawls over to her, pinning her with his weight, kissing away that horrible, fearful look in her eyes.

"I will stay with you for as long it pleases you," he kisses her with all the sincerity and passion he feels.

"Stay with me forever," she requests when their lips part.

"As you wish," He smiles down at her and gently traces the round shape of her ear with one gauntleted hand. A bright blush creeps across her cheeks and he questions the reason.

"Can…can we do it again," she chews her bottom lip, waiting for his response. He chuckles, pins her hands above her head and nuzzles her neck.

"Your wish is my command," his voice is thick with lust as his hot breath brushes past her ear. She moans his name and writhes beneath him.

..~~*~~..

The sound of Bianca's arm locking into place pulls Varric from his slumber. He bolts up upright, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He looks over and sees Bianca in the arms of his lady. She sits in a small old chair, her feet propped up on the nightstand as she carefully studies the weapon she thought she'd never see again.

"I see you've made some modifications," she runs her fingers over the red lyrium he has embedded into the crossbow. He enjoys the sight of her wearing nothing more than his coat and a smile.

"I've been calling her Bianca." He savors the surprised and joyous look on her face. "Since we've been apart she's been the only lady in my arms."

"In fifteen years, you've never been with another?"

"I told you that you ruined me for all other women," he shrugs. Her laughter lights up the room.

"Well, then. Let me 'ruin' you some more," her eyes are mischievous and her grin is suggestive. He returns her smile and watches her set the crossbow down. She suddenly gasps and grabs her chest.

"What," he asks; wondering if there was an injury that needs Bethany's attention.

"Something poked me," she reaches into the coat and pulls out a folded letter. She unfolds the paper and reads the words she wrote to him over a decade ago. Her expression softens, she's touched that he kept this letter.

"It cost me fifty sovereigns to have the Circle cast a preservation spell on it. They said the letter should last a hundred years, twice as long if I stopped carrying it around."

"It was clever of you to only keep the last page," she replaces the letter into his coat.

"That's the entire letter," he says. "There were no other pages."

"Did you ever get my second letter," she asks.

"What second letter?"

"When we parted," she sighs. "I wrote this letter," she taps the coat to indicate the letter she just put away. "Then eight months later I wrote a second letter letting you know that I had given birth to a daughter."

"Isana," it's more a statement than a question.

"Isana." She then watches the dance of expressions on his face as his mind does the math. He gets out of bed and paces as the implications begin to set in.

"I'm a…I'm her…she's my daughter."

"Yes, and I've been telling her about you since she was old enough to ask."

His mind is races with the news and suddenly her greeting and attitude begin to make sense. "Wait. You were pregnant when I shot you. Great sodding Ancestors I almost killed you both. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried Varric. I tried so many times to tell you, but something always came up. Besides if you knew I was pregnant you wouldn't have been able to shoot me and we would all be dead."

"Did Gerav know that I was the father?"

"Yes."

"That son of a bitch," he punches the wall in anger.

"Hey!"

Startled he looks at her, genuinely confused by her angered reaction.

"That's _my_ mother too."

"I'm sorry Beautiful, but if I had known…nothing would've kept me from you."

"With the Dwarven Merchant Guild watching you, maybe he did us a favor."

"The Guild wasn't watching me. Gerav said the Carta was watching me in order to find you," a sense of dread fills his belly.

"He told me the Dwarven Merchant Guild was watching you in order to get to me," she's confused by the turn of events.

"What the sodding blazes was he getting at?"

"Why did my brother want to keep us apart?"

"I don't know. Maker help me I don't know."

..~~*~~..

"Where's Fenris," Isabela asks when she approaches Isana. The girl looks up from her bowl of stew and gestures upstairs with the spoon.

"He's with that dark haired girl," the teen adds.

"About bloody time," she sighs. "They've been wanting to jump each other for weeks now. I don't know why they took so long." Her eyes then move to Varric and Bianca's room. "Are they still at it?"

"It's been fifteen years for Mom, I don't know how long for…for Varric. So yeah, I'd say they're still at it. Look, I gotta get out of here for a bit."

"It probably isn't safe for you to go alone," Orez scolds as he picks up the empty bowl.

The girl rolls her eyes. "I don't need a babysitter."

"How about a partner in crime," the pirate winks. "Come on there must be something you do for fun."

"Well, the merchant area is having this festival. I'm sure we can get into trouble out there."

"You need to lay low and stay out of trouble,"

"Then come with us," Isana suggests.

"Isana," Orez warns.

"An hour, and then we'll come back. Come on, the festival is only once a year, and you can get something for Rafi. I know your anniversary is coming up."

"Ok, but only for an hour, and then we come back here," he relents.

"With you and I looking out for her, what could possibly go wrong?"


End file.
